W.C 
RUS 


THE  MATE  OF  THE  GOOD  SHIP  YORK 

OR,  THE  SHIP'S  ADVENTURE 


OF  CALI?.  LIBRARY,  LOS  AHGBLWf 


"  HARDY    FREQUENTLY    TURNED    TO   LOOK    AT    THE 

YORK.  "  (See  Page  267) 


V  "% 

!  THE  MATE  OF  THE  | 

<  A 

!  GOOD    SHIP  YORK 

*  * 

*  * 

JJ    Or,      The     Ship's     Adventure  £ 

* * 

*  > 

|  By  | 

!    W.    Clark    Russell  | 

Author  of   "The  Wreck    of  the   Gros- 

w  '^" 

venor,"     "Marooned,"     "A    Marriage 
at  Sea,"  "  My  Danish  Sweetheart,"  etc. 

With  a  frontispiece  by 

W.     H.     DUNTON 

»^  "^ 

•f  * 


[ufWm^\fL\ 

* 


*  » 

J     Boston:      L.     C.     PAGE      &  £ 

«  * 

COMPANY,    Publishers  | 


Copyright,  1900 
BY  S.  S.  MCCLURE  COMPANY 

Copyright,  1902 
BY  L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 
All  rights  reserved 


Eighth  Impression,  April,  1907 


Colonial 

Electrotyp«d  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Stmonds  &  Co. 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


Contents 


CHAPTER  PACK 

I.  JULIA  ARMSTRONG         .        .        .        .        .11 

II.  BAX'S  FARM 29 

III.  THE  EAST  INDIA  DOCK  ROAD     ...  48 

IV.  THE  "  GLAMIS  CASTLE  "        ....  66 
V.  CAPTAIN  LAYARD  ......  83 

VI.  THE  SHIP'S  LOOKOUT            .        .        .  101 

VII.  THE  FRENCH  MATE 119 

VIII.  LOST! 137 

IX.  THE  INDIAMAN'S  BOAT 152 

X.  THE  CAPTAIN  AND  THE  GIRL       .        .        .170 

XI.  THE  CAPTAIN'S  BIRTHDAY    .        .        .        .187 

XII.  JULIA  CALLS  " JOHNNY  1"      ....  206 

XIII.  THEY  MEET 219 

XIV.  HARD  WEATHER    ......  239 

XV.  ABOARD  AGAIN 256 

XVI.  PRACTICAL  SEAMANSHIP        ....  273 

XVII.  THE  BOAT -FULL 293 

XVIII.  HAIL,  COLUMBIA! 313 

XIX.  THE  CAMILLA  OF  THE  SEA  ....  333 


2132434 


The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York 

Or,  the  Ship's  Adventure 


CHAPTER   I. 

JULIA    ARMSTRONG 

A  HOUSE  with  a  wall,  which  would  be  blank  but 
for  a  door  and  two  steps,  stands  in  a  very  pretty 
lane.  The  habitable  aspect  of  the  house  is  on  the 
other  side,  and  commands  a  wide  prospect  of  sloping 
fields  and  river  and  green  sweeps  soaring  into  emi- 
nences thickly  clothed  with  trees.  A  brass  plate 
upon  this  lonely  door  bears  the  simple  inscription, 
"Dr.  Hardy."" 

The  lane  runs  down  to  a  bridge,  and  the  flowing 
river  carries  the  eye  along  a  scene  of  English 
beauty :  the  bending  trees  sip  the  water's  surface ; 
the  bright  meadow  stretches  from  the  bank,  and 
is  tender  and  gay  with  the  tints  and  movement  of 
cattle;  lofty  trees  sentinel  the  lane,  and  in  the  early 
summer  the  notes  of  the  thrush  and  the  blackbird 
are  clear  and  sweet. 

One  autumn  evening,  at  about  seven  o'clock,  the 
door  bearing  Doctor  Hardy's  plate  was  pulled  open, 
and  a  young  fellow,  with  something  nautical  in  his 


12    «f»    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  + 

lurch  and  dress,  stepped  into  the  road,  and  began 
to  fill  his  pipe.  Immediately  behind  him  appeared 
another  figure  —  he  was  a  thin,  pale,  gentlemanly- 
looking  man,  and  his  white  hair  was  parted  down 
the  middle.  He  gazed  with  a  great  deal  of  kind- 
ness, not  unmingled  with  the  shadow  of  sorrow, 
at  the  young  fellow  who  was  filling  his  pipe,  and 
said : 

"  You  have  a  pleasant  evening  for  your  walk." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  leave  this  place,"  said  the  young 
man.  "  There  is  nothing  like  this  to  be  met  on  the 
open  ocean."  And  whilst  he  pulled  out  a  match- 
box his  eyes  went  away  to  the  green,  evening- 
clad  hills,  which  showed  between  the  trees  in  a 
sweep  of  sky-line  pure  as  the  rim  of  a  coloured 
lens;  and  now  two  or  three  of  the  stars  which 
shine  upon  our  country,  and  which  we  all  know 
and  love,  were  trembling  in  the  dark  blue  of  the 
coming  shadow. 

The  young  man  lighted  his  pipe  with  several  hard 
sucks  not  wanting  in  emotion. 

"  God  bless  you,  father,"  said  he.  "  I  shall  be 
turning  up  and  finding  all  well  within  twelve 
months,  I  hope." 

"  God  bless  you,  my  dear  son,  and  I  pray  that 
he  may  continue  to  watch  over  you,"  said  the 
white-haired  old  gentleman  in  a  shaking  voice. 

The  young  man  started  to  walk  with  his  face 
set  toward  the  hill.  Doctor  Hardy  stood  in  the 
doorway  watching  him  until  he  had  disappeared 
round  the  bend.  He  then  stepped  back  and  closed 
the  door  upon  himself. 

It  would  not  be  dark  for  a  little  while,  and  even 
when  the  dusk  came  up  over  the  hills  a  piece  of 


«f»  Julia  Armstrong  •&  13 

moon  would  float  up  with  it.  The  water  flowing  in 
the  valley  lay  in  short  lines  and  sweet  curves  in  a 
moist  dim  rose.  A  clock  was  striking;  a  wagon 
was  rumbling  in  a  weak  note  of  thunder  past  some 
low-lying  hedge  that  skirted  a  road.  The  young 
fellow  stepped  out  leisurely  with  his  pipe  hanging 
at  his  teeth ;  he  was  going  away  to  London  and  was 
walking  to  the  station,  and  was  without  even  a  stick. 
He  was  square,  robust,  a  nautical  type  of  young 
man,  clean  shaven,  of  a  cheerful  cast  of  face,  but 
with  something  singular  in  the  expression  of  his 
eyes  owing  to  the  upper  lids  being  mere  streaks  and 
scarcely  visible,  and  the  coloured  matter  black  and 
brilliant,  so  that  when  he  stared  at  you  his  look 
would  have  been  fierce  but  for  the  qualifying  expres- 
sion of  the  rest  of  his  face.  He  walked  with  a  slight 
roll  of  the  sea  in  his  gait,  and  if  you  had  noticed 
him  at  all  you  might  have  supposed  him  a  sailor. 
Yet  a  man  need  not  be  a  sailor  to  look  like  one.  I 
have  met  nautical-looking  men  who  would  not  be 
sailors  for  the  value  of  the  cargoes  of  twenty  voy- 
ages. On  the  other  hand,  I  have  met  sailors  who, 
had  they  called  themselves  greengrocers'  assistants 
or  tailors'  cutters,  would  have  been  believed. 

This  young  fellow,  smoking  his  pipe  and  walking 
along  through  the  fine  autumn-gathering  evening, 
was  the  only  son  of  the  white-haired  gentleman  who 
had  just  withdrawn  into  his  house.  He  had  been  to 
sea  since  he  was  fourteen  years  of  age,  and  his  name 
was  George  Hardy,  and  he  was  now  chief  mate  of 
the  York,  an  Australian  clipper,  twelve  hundred  and 
fifty  tons  burthen,  then  lying  in  the  East  India 
Docks.  He  was  going  to  join  her,  and  why  he  was 
without  baggage  was  because  he  had  sent  his  chest 
aboard  in  advance. 


14    «$»    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

Formerly  the  railway  station  stood  not  very  far 
distant  from  Doctor  Hardy's  house;  but  all  about 
here  was  unimportant  —  it  was  more  a  district  than 
a  place.  Hardy's  patients,  for  instance,  were  scat- 
tered over  miles,  and,  like  the  plums  in  a  sailor's 
pudding,  the  houses  were  scarcely  within  hail  of  one 
another.  The  railway  company,  two  years  before 
this  date,  removed  the  station  seven  miles  higher  up 
the  line,  to  the  great  consternation  of  the  unfortunate 
man  who  had  purchased  the  "  Fox  Railway  Inn," 
then  conveniently  seated  within  a  short  walk  of  the 
station.  Figure  his  horror  when  one  morning  he 
saw  men  with  pickaxes  uprooting  the  platform. 
The  "  Fox  Inn  "  was  left  as  desolate  as  Noah's  Ark 
on  Mount  Ararat,  and  it  needed  three  men  to 
go  through  the  bankruptcy  court  before  matters 
began  to  look  a  little  brighter  for  this  unfortunate 
tavern. 

There  was  plenty  of  time,  and  Hardy  did  not  walk 
very  fast.  He  enjoyed  the  sweets  of  the  country,  all 
the  aromas  of  the  darkling  land  which  came  along 
in  the  faint,  cold,  evening  air.  When  a  sailor  arrives 
from  a  long  voyage  he  makes  up  his  mind  to  button 
the  flaps  of  his  ears  to  his  head,  and  to  steer  a 
straight  course  for  the  deepest  inshore  recess.  He 
does  not  do  so  because  he  usually  brings  up  at  the 
nearest  grog-shop  on  his  arrival,  or  makes  his  way 
to  the  boarding-house  where  he  was  robbed  and 
stripped  when  he  was  last  in  the  place,  and  in  a  short 
time  he  is  away  at  sea  again  with  no  clothes  but 
what  he  stands  up  in,  and  no  bed  but  the  bundle  of 
hay  or  straw  which  he  flings,  with  curses  deep  as  the 
sea  and  dark  as  the  ship's  hold,  down  the  hatch 
under  which  he  sleeps.  But  it  is  an  illustration  of 


«$»  Julia  Armstrong  «$>  15 

his  hatred  of  salt  water  that  he  should  resolve  to 
bury  himself  deep  inshore  when  he  lands. 

George  Hardy  did  not  belong  to  the  class  who  live 
in  boarding-houses  and  wear  knives  on  their  hips. 
He  was  the  son  of  a  gentleman,  he  was  a  man  of 
taste  and  feeling  which  his  seafaring  life  had 
heightened  and  enlarged ;  he  had  the  eye  of  an  artist 
and  the  spirit  of  a  poet,  and  was  too  good  for  a 
calling  that  does  not  require  these  qualities. 

The  road  for  about  four  miles  was  very  lonely. 
One  little  cottage  on  the  right  stood  in  an  orchard 
and  grounds  which  sloped  to  a  hedge  almost  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile  down.  He  met  nobody ;  once  or 
twice  a  squirrel  ran  across  the  pale  dust;  the  birds 
had  gone  to  bed,  there  was  no  song;  the  sun  had 
sunk,  and  the  evening  had  deepened  into  the  first  of 
the  night. 

Suddenly,  some  distance  ahead  of  him  on  the 
left,  Hardy  spied  what  was  undoubtedly  a  human 
figure.  It  lay  in  a  dry,  shallow  ditch  with  the  upper 
part  of  its  body  a  little  raised,  resting  upon  the 
bank  under  the  hedge.  As  he  approached  he  saw 
that  it  was  a  woman,  and  then  that  it  was  a  girl 
in  a  straw  hat  with  nothing  near  her  in  the  shape 
of  bag,  bundle,  or  dog.  She  must  be  some 
wearied  wayfarer  who  had  seated  herself  and 
fallen  asleep.  But  he  did  not  believe  this,  either; 
on  the  contrary,  when  he  was  close  to  the  figure  he 
imagined  it  to  be  a  corpse. 

He  put  his  pipe  in  his  pocket,  and  stood  looking 
at  her.  There  was  light  enough  to  see  by,  but  not 
very  distinctly.  He  stooped  and  peered,  and  then 
started  and  exclaimed: 

"By  Jove,  it's  Julia  Armstrong!  What's  come 
to  her?" 


1 6    «f»    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  -f» 

He  looked  up  and  down  the  road;  not  a  soul 
was  in  sight.  He  felt  her  ungloved  hands  —  they 
were  cold.  Her  straw  hat  was  tilted  on  her  head, 
which  rested  not  on  the  brim  of  her  hat  but  on 
her  hair,  that  was  dressed  in  a  mass  behind  and 
pillowed  her.  Her  eyes  were  not  closed,  and  if  she 
was  not  dead  she  was  in  a  swoon.  He  got  beside 
her  and  lifted  her  head,  all  the  while  wondering 
what  she  was  doing  —  dead  or  in  a  faint  —  in  this 
ditch.  He  then  pulled  out  a  small  flask  of  brandy 
diluted  with  water,  and  as  her  pure  white  teeth  lay 
a  little  apart  he  managed  to  pour  a  dram  into  her 
mouth.  He  chafed  her  hands,  and  in  a  sort  of 
way  caressed  her  by  holding  her  to  him.  He  also 
put  her  hat  straight,  and  wetting  his  handkerchief 
with  a  little  brandy  and  water  he  damped  her  brow, 
now  taking  notice  that  she  was  not  dead  by 
sundry  tokens  of  life  of  a  most  elusive  and  subtle 
character,  whereof  her  breathing  was  not  one,  for 
he  could  not  detect  a  stir  of  air  on  the  back  of  his 
hand  betwixt  her  lips,  nor  the  faintest  heave  of 
her  pretty  breast. 

She  was  Julia  Armstrong,  and,  strange  to  say,  an 
old  love  of  his  —  I  mean,  he  had  lost  his  heart  to  her 
a  little  time  before  he  went  to  sea,  when  he  was 
scarcely  more  than  a  schoolboy.  Then  he  went  to 
sea,  and  when  he  came  home  she  had  gone  some- 
where on  a  visit,  and  so  of  the  next  voyage;  but 
when  he  returned  from  his  fourth  trip  round  the 
world  he  met  her,  and  found  the  old  beautiful 
charm  again  in  her;  but  in  a  week  she  left  to 
occupy  some  post  as  a  governess  thirty  miles  away, 
and  when  they  met  again  it  was  here  by  this 
roadside. 


«$»  Julia  Armstrong  «$»  17 

What  had  captivated  the  young  fellow  with  this 
girl  who  lay  unconscious  in  the  fold  of  his  arm? 
She  had  a  pleasant,  interesting  face,  beheld  even 
through  the  death  pallor  that  lay  upon  it;  but  she 
was  not  beautiful  or  even  pretty.  Her  hair  was 
abundant  and  fair,  inclining,  as  you  might  even 
judge  by  that  light,  to  auburn.  But  it  was  not  her 
face  nor  hair,  it  was  her  figure  that  had  excited  ad- 
miration into  passion  in  the  young  sailor.  Her 
shape  and  involuntary  poses  were  saucy  and  perfect 
beyond  expression.  She  always  carried  her  hat  on 
one  side  of  her  head  —  "  cock-billed,"  as  the  sailors 
call  it ;  she  had  a  trick  of  planting  her  hands  on  her 
hips;  her  limbs  were  beautifully  shaped,  and  her 
short  skirts  exposed  as  much  or  little  of  them  as  her 
figure  required.  No  dancer  of  exquisite  art  could 
have  played  her  legs  as  this  girl  did,  yet  all  her 
movements  were  involuntary  and  unconscious,  and 
therein  lay  the  sweetness,  for  had  a  hint  of  study 
been  visible  in  her  motions  the  whole  maidenly 
and  fairy-like  illusion  would  have  hardened  into 
acting. 

Young  Hardy  had  thought  of  the  Vivandiere,  of 
the  Fille-du-Regiment,  when  he  looked  at  her.  He 
could  not  have  told  you  why.  Was  it  the  sauciness, 
that  was  not  wanton,  of  the  repose  of  her  hands 
upon  her  hips?  the  unconsciously  crossed  leg  when 
standing?  the  cock-billed  hat,  or  tam-o'-shanter, 
that  made  you  feel  the  need  of  music?  the  fixed 
gaze  that  was  not  staring  but  pensive?  the  sudden 
change  of  attitude  that  was  like  the  cloud  shadow 
upon  a  rose  on  which  the  sun  had  rested?  What 
had  all  this  to  do  with  the  Vivandiere  ?  But  Hardy 
had  got  the  word  and  the  idea  into  his  head,  and 


1 8    «f»    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

when  he  thought  of  her  at  sea  'twas  as  though  she 
was  walking  with  a  regiment  with  a  little  barrel  of 
cordial  waters  upon  her  back. 

Again  he  looked  up  the  road  and  then  down  the 
road ;  he  could  hear  a  cart  in  a  lane  that  ran  parallel, 
but  nobody  was  visible.  He  was  beginning  to  won- 
der what  he  was  to  do  —  whether  he  had  the  phys- 
ical strength  to  carry  this  fine  girl  in  his  arms  four 
miles,  that  is,  to  his  father's  house  —  when  she 
sighed,  stirred  like  an  awakening  sleeper,  sighed 
again,  and  opened  a  pair  of  gray  eyes  full  upon  his 
face. 

"  Do  you  know  me?  "  he  asked. 

"  Where  am  I  ?  "  she  answered,  and  with  a  sud- 
den effort  she  raised  her  form  out  of  his  arm,  but  in 
a  moment  fell  back  again  in  sheer  weakness. 

"  Don't  you  remember  your  old  friend  George 
Hardy?"  he  said. 

She  looked  at  him  with  that  sort  of  intentness 
which  you  will  sometimes  see  in  a  baby's  eyes,  and 
her  lips  drooped  into  a  scarcely  perceptible  smile. 

"What  am  I  doing  here?"  she  asked,  and  she 
gazed  round  her,  deeply  puzzled. 

He  gave  her  a  little  more  brandy,  which  she  cer- 
tainly stood  in  need  of,  and  looking  at  her  without 
speaking,  he  waited  until  more  mind  came  into  her 
face;  and  now  she  made  an  effort  to  rise. 

"  Keep  still  until  you  have  come  right  to,"  said 
he.  "  I  wish  some  old  cart  would  come  along  to  give 
us  a  lift  to  my  father's." 

"Your  father's?" 

"  Doctor  Hardy,"  he  answered.  "  About  an 
hour's  walk  away." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  she  exclaimed.  "  If  a  cart  came 
I  would  not  go." 


<Q*  Julia  Armstrong  «$»  19 

"  My  dear  Miss  Armstrong,  what  are  you  doing 
here?"  exclaimed  young  Hardy.  "All  alone  in  a 
dead  faint  in  a  ditch !  Were  you  returning  home?  " 
And  again  he  looked  a  little  way  up  and  down, 
thinking  to  see  a  handbag  or  a  parcel,  but  her  hands 
were  as  empty  as  his. 

"  I'm  going  to  London,"  she  said.  "  What  time 
is  it?" 

"  I'm  going  to  London,  too,"  said  he ;  "  but 
neither  of  us  will  catch  the  train  we  want.  Do  you 
mean  to  walk  to  London?  " 

She  shook  her  head,  and  put  her  hand  in  her 
pocket  as  though  seeking  her  purse.  What  she 
sought  was  evidently  there. 

Now  her  faculties  had  come  together,  but  it  was 
clear  she  must  sit  a  little  longer  before  attempting  to 
rise ;  so  they  sat  side  by  side  with  their  feet  in  the 
dry  ditch,  and  their  backs  against  the  hedge. 

"  Why  are  you  going  to  London?  "  he  asked. 

"  I'm  leaving  home  for  good,"  she  answered. 

"Where's  your  luggage?" 

"  I  have  none,"  she  replied. 

"Are  you  running  away  from  home?"  he  in- 
quired, beginning  to  see  a  little  into  this  matter. 

"  I  have  no  home,  and  I  am  leaving  my  father's 
house  of  my  own  accord,"  she  replied,  animated  by 
a  little  faint  passion.  "  I  could  endure  the  life  no 
longer  —  I  am  the  wretchedest  girl  in  the  world. 
Oh,  how  his  wife  has  treated  me!  You  once  met 
her." 

She  struggled  with  her  heart,  and  some  tears  ran 
down  her  face. 

It  is  true  that  Hardy  had  met  this  stepmother 
—  this  second  Mrs.  Armstrong  —  and  he  had  then 


20    ^»    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

gathered  that  the  lady  and  Miss  Julia  did  not  lead 
the  lives  of  angels  in  each  other's  company.  In 
short,  he  had  heard  that  Mrs.  Armstrong,  by  her 
drink,  by  her  language,  and  conduct  in  general, 
had  made  a  very  hell  of  Captain,  or  Commander, 
Armstrong's  home  for  his  daughter.  The  captain 
was  retired,  was  poor,  and  Mrs.  Armstrong  had 
brought  him  a  hundred  a  year,  which  was  a  godsend. 
He  took  life  very  easily,  drank  his  whisky,  smoked 
his  pipe,  and  was  welcome  at  several  houses  in  the 
neighbourhood,  where  at  one  he  would  get  billiards, 
at  another  a  rubber,  at  a  third  a  gossip  in  which 
he  related  his  China  experiences;  and  the  whisky 
bottle  always  kept  him  company,  though  his  kindest 
friend  could  never  say  that  in  all  his  time  he  had 
seen  him  drunk  once.  Doctor  Hardy  was  on  good 
terms  with  him,  but  spoke  with  strong  dislike  of 
Mrs.  Armstrong,  and  of  her  treatment  of  her  daugh- 
ter, that  was  driving  her  into  seeking  and  taking 
situations,  some  of  a  menial  sort,  and  that  threat- 
ened before  long  to  break  her  heart  or  to  send  her  to 
the  bad,  as  'tis  called.  But  with  domestic  troubles  of 
this  sort  people  do  not  choose  to  concern  themselves, 
except  in  exaggerating  them  in  talk  by  scandalous 
hints  and  opinions. 

"  I  must  wait  for  something  to  pass  that  will  help 
me  to  carry  you  to  my  father's  house,"  said  Hardy, 
looking  anxiously  at  the  girl  whom  he  could  not  fail 
to  see  was  weak  and  exhausted. 

"  I  have  already  declined,"  she  answered.  "  I 
will  not  return  a  single  yard  in  that  hateful  direc- 
tion. I  shall  feel  stronger  presently.  Is  there  not 
another  train  later  on  ?  " 

"  Not  to  London." 


«f*  Julia  Armstrong  «$»  21 

"  I  must  not  miss  this,"  she  exclaimed,  struggling 
to  rise. 

"  Look  here,"  said  he,  keeping  her  down  by  gentle 
pressure  of  the  hand,  "  I  am  going  to  London  and 
we  will  go  together,  but  we  shall  have  to  wait  until 
to-morrow.  Will  not  that  suit?  If  you  are  in  a 
desperate  hurry  you  can  leave  early  to-morrow.  Do 
you  know  Bax's  farm?" 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  she  answered,  turning  her  face 
up  the  road. 

"  Bax  shall  give  you  a  bedroom,"  said  he,  "  since 
you  refuse  to  return  with  me  to  my  father.  A  good 
supper  and  a  good  night's  rest  are  the  doctoring  you 
stand  in  need  of.  I  find  you  in  a  dead  faint  in  a 
ditch,  and  so  you  come  under  my  care,  and  I  am 
answerable  for  you.  We  are  old  friends." 

She  faintly  smiled  and  looked  at  him. 

"  You  will  do  exactly  what  I  ask,  and  at  Bax's 
farm  we  shall  have  leisure  for  a  little  talk." 

She  bowed  her  head,  and  he  saw  that  she  cried 
again. 

They  spied  a  man  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill  coming 
up.  The  girl  started,  and  said,  "  I  am  quite  strong 
enough  to  stand  and  walk,"  and  she  stood  up,  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  figures  amongst  women,  with 
a  sweet  ingenuous  sauciness  which  was  the  flavour- 
ing grace  of  her  happy  hours,  distinguishable  still, 
even  in  this  time  of  misery  and  illness.  The  man 
coming  along  was  a  common  labourer,  but  she  did 
not  choose  that  any  one  should  see  her  sitting  in  a 
ditch. 

They  walked  slowly  up  the  road.  She  leaned  upon 
his  arm  and  occasionally  stopped  to  rest,  and  their 
talk  until  they  arrived  at  the  farm  was  not  much; 


11    <&    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

indeed  she  said  little  more  than  that  she  had  been 
making  up  her  mind  for  some  weeks  to  leave  her 
father's  house  for  ever  and  to  sail  to  a  colony,  where 
she  would  be  willing  to  accept  the  lowest  menial 
office  so  long  as  she  was  independent,  and  received 
the  respect  that  was  due  to  her  as  a  lady.  She  had 
left  her  home  that  day  in  the  afternoon,  meaning  to 
walk  to  the  station  and  take  the  train  to  London, 
whence  she  intended  to  write  to  her  father  to  for- 
ward her  clothes  in  the  box  which  stood  ready 
corded  in  her  bedroom.  When  she  had  walked 
some  distance  —  it  might  be  five  miles  —  a  sudden 
faintness  seized  her,  and  she  sat  down  under  a  hedge 
to  rest.  She  then  must  have  fainted,  and  knew  no 
more  until  she  returned  to  consciousness,  and  found 
herself  resting  against  Hardy. 

This  talk  brought  them  to  Bax's  farm. 

It  was  not  a  farm,  though  it  was  called  so.  Bax 
sold  milk  and  garden  produce  and  eggs,  and  the 
countryside  called  his  house  a  farm.  It  had  two 
gables  and  a  thatched  roof,  small  latticed  windows, 
and  a  door  that  opened  direct  into  the  sitting-room. 
In  the  summer  the  house  was  enchanting  with  its 
flowers  and  shrubbery  and  the  climbing  green  stuff 
about  it,  and  then  the  concert  of  the  woods  thrilled 
in  the  trees  beyond,  and  the  air  was  full  of  sweet 
smells. 

Bax  was  a  man  of  about  sixty,  immensely  stout 
behind  and  in  front,  with  a  face  that  seemed  pow- 
dered with  pale,  scissors-shorn  whisker,  and  small 
eyes  which  had  drowned  their  lustre  in  beer.  He 
stood  in  the  doorway  in  his  shirt-sleeves  smoking  a 
pipe,  and  was  not  at  all  surprised  when  the  couple 
passed  through  the  gate  and  approached  the  porch. 
He  merely  pulled  out  his  pipe,  and  said: 


«f»  Julia  Armstrong  «$>  23 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Hardy ;  good  evening,  Miss 
Armstrong.  Come  for  a  bit  of  a  sit  down?  Will 
y'  'ave  chairs  here?  or  the  sitting-room's  at  your 
sarvice." 

"How  d'ye  do,  Mr.  Bax?"  said  Hardy. 

"  Good  evening,  Mr.  Bax,"  said  Miss  Armstrong, 
in  a  faint  voice. 

"Take  us  into  your  sitting-room,"  said  Hardy; 
and  they  entered  the  door  and  were  in  the  sitting- 
room  at  once  —  a  cosy  little  room,  hung  with  por- 
traits of  Bax  and  his  dead  wife  and  daughter,  deco- 
rated with  a  small  mantel-glass  in  fly-gauze,  and 
hospitable  with  a  round  table  on  one  leg  and  three 
claws,  the  top  beautified  by  a  knitted  cover. 

Julia  sank  into  a  little  armchair.  Bax  was  be- 
ginning to  gaze  at  her  earnestly;  he  knew  her  per- 
fectly well,  knew  her  father  also,  who  frequently 
looked  in  for  a  drink ;  also  he  knew  Hardy  perfectly 
well,  likewise  his  father,  who  attended  him  when  he 
was  attacked  by  gout. 

"  Mr.  Bax,"  said  Hardy,  putting  his  cap  down 
upon  the  table,  "  we  have  come  to  occupy  your  house 
this  night." 

"  Joost  been  married,  have  yer?  "  asked  Bax,  slip- 
ping his  pipe  into  his  waistcoat  pocket. 

"No,"  answered  Hardy,  gravely;  "Miss  Arm- 
strong is  leaving  her  home  for  good.  If  you  don't 
guess  why,  I'll  tell  you  presently." 

Bax  looked  knowing;  he  looked  more  knowing 
an  instant  later  when  a  fine  Persian  kitten  ran  up 
his  back  and  curled  its  tail  upon  his  shoulder,  for 
then  two  pairs  of  eyes  were  fastened  upon  Hardy, 
the  kitten,  being  no  beer  drinker,  gazing  more  stead- 
fastly than  the  other. 


24   *t»    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

"  Have  you  a  bedroom  that  you  can  place  at  Miss 
Armstrong's  disposal  ?  " 

"  Is  there  no  later  train?  "  asked  Julia. 

"  We  would  not  take  it  if  there  were,"  replied 
Hardy. 

Of  course  Bax,  having  lost  his  wife,  must  consult 
his  daughter,  and  when  he  had  opened  a  door  and 
shouted  a  little  for  Mary  Ann  there  arrived  a  woman 
who  looked  old  enough  to  be  Bax's  mother.  Her 
face  seemed  to  be  dredged  by  time ;  the  arcus  senilis 
was  more  defined  in  her  than  in  Bax;  she  looked 
seventy  years  old,  and  was  but  thirty-eight. 

She  curtseyed  to  the  visitors,  and  then,  after  purs- 
ing her  lips  and  knitting  her  brow,  she  replied  to  her 
father  that  Miss  Armstrong  could  have  the  spare 
room  over  the  sitting-room. 

"  Can  I  have  a  bedroom?  "  said  Hardy. 

Bax  mused,  looking  at  his  daughter,  and  then 
said,  "  Not  unless  you  sleeps  along  with  me." 

"  With  you  ? "  laughed  Hardy,  looking  at  his 
stomach.  "  How  much  of  you  lies  in  bed  all  at 
once?  That'll  do  for  me,"  said  he,  and  he  jerked 
his  head  at  a  wide  hair-sofa. 

The  father,  the  kitten,  and  the  daughter  looked  a 
little  strangely  at  Hardy  and  Julia  Armstrong,  as 
though  before  proceeding  they  wanted  to  see  things 
in  a  clearer  light.  Hardy  understanding  this,  spoke 
out  with  the  bluntness  of  a  sailor. 

"  Look  here,  Bax,"  said  he,  "  I'm  going  to  Lon- 
don to  join  my  ship.  I  was  bound  away  to-night, 
but  on  the  road  I  fell  in  with  this  young  lady,  who 
lay  in  a  swoon." 

"  Oh,  dear,  poor  thing !  "  groaned  Miss  Bax. 

"  She  came  to,  and  I  brought  her  here  after  learn- 


«$»  Julia  Armstrong  «$»  25 

ing  that  she  was  leaving  her  home  for  good  on 
account  of  the  barbarous  behaviour  of  her  step- 
mother —  " 

"  Oh,  I  know,  I  know,"  interrupted  Miss  Bax. 

"  She  was  walking  to  catch  the  train  I  was  bound 
by;  she  is  not  in  a  fit  state  to  travel,  Bax.  You  can 
see  that,  ma'am ;  therefore  she  shall  sup  under  this 
comfortable  old  roof,  and  take  the  rest  she  needs  in 
the  room  you  offer  her.  Her  train  leaves  at  ten  in 
the  morning,  and  we  will  take  it." 

The  kitten  purred  as  it  fretted  Bax's  cheek.  Bax 
said,  "  It's  all  right,  Mr.  Hardy,  and  you  shall  be 
made  comfortable.  What  'ull  you  'ave  for  supper?  " 

What  would  be  better  than  some  cold  ham  and  a 
dish  of  eggs  and  bacon,  a  dish  of  sausages  in  mashed 
potato,  and  the  half  of  a  beautiful  apple  tart,  along 
with  a  jug  of  real  cream?  And  for  drink  there  was 
some  first-class  ale  kept  by  Bax  for  Bax  himself,  for 
he  held  no  license,  and  his  dealings  were  secret,  and 
if  he  took  money  it  was  a  gift  for  a  kindness. 

"  Will  you  come  up-stairs  and  see  your  room,  Miss 
Armstrong,  before  I  goes  about  and  gets  your  sup- 
per for  you  ?  "  exclaimed  Miss  Bax. 

"  Have  you  got  no  baggage  ?  "  inquired  old  Bax, 
jerking  the  kitten  on  to  the  table. 

"  It  will  follow  me  to  London,"  said  Miss  Arm- 
strong, and  she  rose  and  went  up-stairs  with  Miss 
Bax. 

Hardy  sat  down  upon  the  sofa,  and  Bax  went  to 
work  to  lay  the  cloth.  There  was  plenty  of  room 
at  that  little  table  for  two.  Bax  had  been  a  gardener 
in  a  great  family,  and  had  often  helped  the  coach- 
man, the  footman,  and  the  butler  to  wait.  He  pos- 
sessed some  good  old-fashioned  table  apparel,  and 


26    ^   The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <+ 

before  Miss  Armstrong  returned  the  room  looked 
bright  and  hospitable  with  the  light  of  an  oil  lamp 
reflected  in  cutlery,  glass,  and  cruet-stand. 

Julia  entered,  and  Bax  walked  out.  She  went  and 
sat  beside  Hardy,  and  the  lovely  Persian  kitten 
sprang  into  her  lap.  Her  hair  was  as  beautiful  as 
her  figure,  and  her  gray  eyes  were  full  of  heart  and 
meaning.  You  could  not  have  called  her  pretty,  yet 
you  were  sensible  of  a  charm  in  her  face  that  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  shape  of  her  nose  or  the 
character  of  her  mouth. 

"Do  you  feel  better?"  said  Hardy. 

"  Much ;  I  never  thought  to  find  myself  stopping 
a  night  here.  Of  course,  I  have  been  the  means  of 
your  losing  your  train  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  will  do  just  as  well,"  he  answered. 
"  Where  did  you  mean  to  sleep  when  you  got  to 
London  to-night  ?  " 

"  I  should  have  found  a  room,"  she  answered. 

"  Will  they  send  on  your  luggage  if  you  write  for 
it?" 

"  Father  will,"  she  replied.  "  Yes,  he  will  do 
that,  but  he  will  not  write  to  ask  me  to  return. 
He  does  not  care  what  becomes  of  me.  He  never 
cared  what  I  did  when  I  left  his  house  to  fill  a 
situation." 

Her  nostrils  enlarged,  her  eyes  looked  angry.  A 
little  blood  visited  her  pale  cheek.  Hardy's  memory 
pictured  her  father :  a  middle-sized  man  with  pale, 
weak  eyes,  a  chuckling  laugh  like  the  gurgle  of 
liquor,  much  reference  to  his  ships  and  to  naval 
things  in  general,  a  large  Micawber-like  indifference 
to  his  existing  circumstances,  and  a  quality  of  talk- 
ativeness about  outside  matters,  such  as  the  queen, 


«f»  Julia  Armstrong  «$>  27 

the  trouble  at  Pekin,  the  discovery  of  the  North 
Pole,  which  would  make  you  think  that  he  did  not 
know  what  home  worries  were. 

"  Bax,"  said  Hardy,  "  may  covertly  send  along  to 
let  them  know  you  are  here." 

"  What  of  that  ?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  If  they  were 
to  send  twenty  men  they  would  have  to  drag  me  to 
move  me.  I  would  not  set  foot  in  that  house  again 
if  my  stepmother  lay  dead  in  the  gutter  opposite  the 
door.  It  is  my  father's  fault." 

She  bit  her  lip,  stroked  the  kitten,  and  said,  "  Oh, 
it  is  hard  upon  a  girl  to  have  a  bad  father  —  a  weak, 
selfish,  foolish  father." 

Here  Bax  came  again  with  a  tumbler  full  of 
autumn  flowers.  He  placed  them  in  the  middle 
of  the  table  and  went  out,  looking  nowhere,  as  if  he 
walked  in  his  sleep;  but  whilst  the  door  lay  open 
they  heard  the  spitting  of  the  frying-pan. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  when  you  get  to 
London  ?  "  said  Hardy. 

"  I  mean  to  find  a  situation  on  board  a  ship,"  she 
answered. 

"  What  situation  do  you  expect  to  find  ?  " 

"  I  shall  try  to  get  a  post  as  stewardess,  or  as  an 
attendant  upon  a  sick  person.  I  cannot  pay  my 
passage  out  even  in  the  steerage,  therefore  I  must 
work." 

"  Now,  Miss  Armstrong,"  said  Hardy,  stroking 
the  kitten's  head  on  her  lap,  "  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to  be  rude  to  you  because  I  want  to  be,  and  mean  to 
be,  your  friend."  She  looked  at  him  swiftly,  and  her 
eyes  drooped.  "  Do  not  misjudge  any  questions  I 
may  put  to  you.  How  much  money  have  you  got  ?  " 

"  Seven  pounds,  twelve  shillings,   and  — "   she 


28    +    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  +> 

drew  out  a  little  purse,  opened  it,  counted  some 
coppers,  and  added,  "  fourpence." 

"  What  is  that  money  going  to  do  for  you  in 
London  ?  "  said  Hardy,  after  a  pause  of  pity. 

"  It  will  support  me,"  she  answered,  "  until  I  have 
obtained  a  situation  on  board  a  ship." 

"  Situations  for  girls  on  board  ships  are  very  few," 
said  he.  "  What  part  of  the  world  do  you  want  to 
sail  for?" 

"  Anywhere,  anywhere,"  she  replied.  "  But  it 
must  be  to  some  place  where  I  can  get  a  living." 

"  It  would  not  do  to  sail  for  China,"  he  exclaimed. 
"India  doesn't  provide  much  for  people  whose  wants 
are  yours.  It  must  be  the  Great  Pacific  colonies. 
Aren't  there  agents  and  institutions  which  help 
young  girls  to  get  away  across  the  sea?  This  we 
will  inquire  into  when  we  arrive  in  London." 

She  looked  at  him  gratefully,  and  was  about  to 
speak,  but  was  interrupted  by  Miss  Bax,  who 
staggered  in  with  a  tray  load. 


CHAPTER   II. 

BAX'S    FARM 

GEORGE  HARDY  and  Miss  Julia  Armstrong  sat 
down  to  supper  at  the  little  round  table ;  Bax  lurked 
as  if  he  would  wait ;  Hardy  said  they  could  manage 
very  well  without  him,  and  the  pair  fell  to.  The 
window  was  open,  and  all  the  rich,  decaying  per- 
fumes of  the  autumn  evening  floated  into  the 
atmosphere,  and  sweetened  it  with  the  incense 
of  the  night. 

Hardy  looked  at  his  companion,  and  felt  again  the 
delight  he  used  to  take  in  the  contemplation  of  her 
shape.  The  same  old  suggestion  was  in  her  —  that 
of  the  Vivandiere.  But  why?  He  could  not  have 
explained,  and  neither  can  I.  Every  movement  was 
full  of  beauty  and  piquancy,  and  she  wore  her  hair 
parted  a  little  on  one  side. 

"  Is  your  bedroom  comfortable?  "  asked  Hardy. 

"  A  sweet,  old-fashioned  little  room,"  she  said, 
"  and  the  bed's  a  four-poster.  It  has  curtain  rings, 
and  if  I  tremble  in  bed  they  will  rattle,  and  I  shall 
think  it  the  death-tick,  which  I  hate  to  hear.  Will 
that  sofa  make  a  comfortable  bed  for  you  ?  " 

"  You  are  asking  a  sailor  that  question,"  he  an- 
swered. "  I  would  be  glad  to  carry  it  to  sea  with 
me,  and  sleep  all  around  the  world  in  it.  Have  you 
written  a  farewell  letter  to  your  father?  " 

29 


30   <&   The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$• 

"  No ;  I  have  left  him  as  a  spirit  might,  in  utter 
silence.  His  wife  will  not  let  him  trouble  himself. 
When  the  time  comes  for  locking  up  the  bolt  will  be 
shot,  and  he  will  fill  his  pipe  and  fill  his  glass,  and 
say  to  his  wife  that  he  is  afraid  there  is  some  truth  in 
the  story  that  Mr.  Gubbins  was  telling  him  about 
Miss  Cornflower  and  the  Congregational  minister. 
That  is  the  sort  of  interest  he  will  take  in  my  not 
turning  up." 

She  frowned,  and  put  down  her  knife  and  fork, 
and  seemed  as  if  she  did  not  mean  to  go  on 
eating.  Hardy  poured  out  a  glass  of  frothing  ale. 
It  was  a  fine  sparkling  ale,  better  than  champagne, 
and  looked  an  elegant  drink,  fit  for  red  lips  in  the 
thin  glass  it  brimmed  with  foam.  She  took  it  and 
drank. 

"  It  is  hard  for  any  girl  to  be  in  want,"  said 
Hardy ;  "  but  there  is  no  distress  to  equal  that  of 
the  lady  who  is  in  poverty.  What,  in  God's  name, 
can  she  do?  She  is  hot  wanted  in  the  kitchen,  and 
if  I  were  she  I  would  rather  sell  matches  than  be  a 
governess." 

"  It  is  the  well-to-do  lady  who  makes  it  hard  for 
the  poor  lady,"  exclaimed  the  girl.  "  Two  years 
ago  I  got  a  situation  as  nurse  to  attend  an  aged  sick 
woman  —  she  was  eighty.  She  lived  with  a  lady. 
You  would  think  this  person  would  have  known 
how  to  treat  the  daughter  of  an  officer  in  the  navy, 
who  was  too  poor  to  maintain  her  as  a  lady.  Mr. 
Hardy,  she  used  to  call  me  Armstrong,  as  though 
I  was  her  housemaid.  I  had  my  meals  separate. 
When  they  went  away  for  a  change  I  was  not  good 
enough  to  sit  in  the  carriage ;  they  made  me  sit  on 
the  box,  and  the  coachman,  in  the  genial  manner  of 


«S»  Bax's   Farm  «$»  31 

the  mews,  asked  me  if  I  was  the  new  maid,  and  if 
my  name  was  Jemima.  When  we  arrived  the  lady 
told  me  I  must  not  sit  with  them  if  company  came, 
as  my  presence  might  be  objected  to.  I  went  to  my 
bedroom,  and  kept  in  it  till  I  was  called  out,  and 
then  returned  to  it." 

"  It  is  time  you  cleared  out,"  said  Hardy.  "  The 
soft  hearts  seem  to  be  found  at  sea  nowadays;  at 
all  events,  they  are  not  so  scarce  there  as  fresh  eggs," 
said  he,  helping  himself.  "  Your  intentions  are  to 
get  abroad  and  seek  a  berth  abroad.  I  should  like 
to  read  the  map  of  them.  You  have  saved  seven 
pounds  odd,  and  you  arrive  in  London  at  night,  and 
you  don't  know  where  to  go.  Next  day  you  ask 
your  way  —  where  ?  To  the  docks ;  but  what  docks  ? 
London,  Millwall,  East  India,  West  India,  and  so 
on.  You  enter  a  forest  without  a  compass.  Now 
what  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  I  meant  to  go  on  board  ship  after  ship,"  she 
answered,  with  spirit,  "  and  ask  anybody  I  saw  if 
there  was  a  berth  for  me  on  board." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  a  large  full-rigged  ship  in  all 
your  life?  "  he  inquired,  smiling. 

"  Never,"  she  replied,  emphatically. 

"  Go  to  the  docks,  and  you'll  see  hundreds,  and 
there  won't  be  one  that  wants  you." 

"  What  is  the  name  of  your  ship  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  The  York." 

"  Where  is  she  going  to  ?  " 

"  She  is  bound  to  Australia." 

"  Is  there  no  place  for  me  in  that  ship?  "  she  said. 
She  looked  at  him  piteously,  though  her  natural 
grace  of  coquetry  broke  through  all  the  same,  with 
the  planting  of  her  hands  upon  her  hips,  and  the 
way  she  side-dropped  her  head  at  him. 


32    «^»    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <+ 

"  We  carry  no  stewardess,  no  females,  no  passen- 
gers," he  answered.  "  The  captain  is  a  stranger  to 
me.  No,  my  ship  is  of  no  use  to  you,"  he  continued, 
after  a  pause.  "  You  must  call  with  me  upon  some 
shipping  people.  There  may  be  a  vacancy  for  a 
stewardess.  But  suppose  the  ship  is  sailing  for 
India?" 

She  gazed  at  him  a  little  vacantly. 

"  We  shall  find  some  means  of  getting  abroad," 
he  went  on,  running  a  note  of  cheerfulness  into  his 
voice,  for  he  thought  by  the  look  in  the  girl's  eyes 
that  she  was  beginning  to  bend  on  signals  of  dis- 
tress, which  would  be  hoisted  in  a  pearly  downpour 
presently.  "  At  all  events,  you  can't  be  worse  off 
than  you  are,  and  somebody  says  that  when  you  ave 
at  the  bottom  of  the  wheel  the  next  revolution  must 
hoist  you." 

They,  talked  in  this  strain  until  they  had  supped, 
then  Hardy,  not  seeing  a  bell,  opened  the  door  and 
shouted  to  Miss  Bax  to  clear  away.  When  the  door 
was  opened  they  could  hear  voices  in  the  back  room 
beyond,  and  a  gush  of  Cavendish  tobacco  smoke 
came  in.  Some  friends  of  Bax  had  called  in  a 
casual  way  by  the  back  entrance,  across  the  fields, 
which  meant  several  drinks,  clouds  of  tobacco,  and 
all  the  gossip  of  the  social  sphere  which  Bax  and 
his  friends  adorned.  When  Miss  Bax  had  cleared 
the  table  she  placed  a  bottle  of  whisky  upon  it  at 
the  request  of  Hardy,  also  cold  water  and  glasses. 
She  then  said  there  was  no  hurry  to  go  to  bed. 
Father  did  not  go  to  bed  until  eleven,  and  she 
left  them  with  a  smile  as  though  they  were  a  young 
married  couple  spending  their  honeymoon  in  Bax's 
farm,  instead  of  one  of  them  being  an  honest, 


«f»  Bax's  Farm  «*»  33 

generous-hearted  young  sailor  intent  on  doing  his 
dead  best  to  rescue  a  young  English  lady  from  bitter 
privation,  and  perhaps  from  miserable  disgrace ;  and 
the  other  of  them  being  a  broken-hearted  girl  hurry- 
ing from  a  home  of  tyranny  and  drink,  a  home  of 
one  base  nature,  and  of  one  spiritless  one  (which  is 
likewise  a  baseness),  with  a  future  as  dark  as  the 
night  that  lay  outside,  in  whdse  funeral  tapestries 
her  imagination  alone  could  have  beheld  the  stir- 
rings of  the  life  that  was  to  give  her  content  and 
liberty,  in  whose  impenetrable  depths  she  found  no 
more  than  a  minute  gleam  of  light  from  Hardy's 
strange  and  chanceful  encounter  with  her  while  she 
lay  in  a  swoon  deep  as  death. 

With  her  consent  the  sailor  lighted  a  pipe.  The 
girl  sat  in  a  chair  opposite  to  him,  her  head  a  little 
on  one  side,  hands  on  her  hips,  all  in  the  old,  fasci- 
nating, coquettish,  incommunicable  way.  Outside 
the  night  lay  in  a  thin  gloom,  and  they  saw  the 
stars  shining  above  the  trees.  The  hush  of  the 
sleeping  land  was  in  the  air.  You  heard  nothing 
but  the  silver  tinkling  of  a  natural  fall  of  water  that 
ran  down  the  hillside,  and  fell  purely  in  a  stone  bowl 
for  men,  horses,  and  dogs  to  drink. 

"You  are  a  plucky  girl,"  said  Hardy;  "but  I 
think  you  are  attempting  more  than  you  understand. 
You  talk,  for  instance,  of  going  to  the  workhouse. 
You  are  the  last  girl  in  the  world  to  go  to  the  work- 
house. Think  of  dying  in  a  workhouse,"  he  contin- 
ued, whilst  she  watched  him  without  smiling. 
"  Creatures  bend  over  your  bed,  and  say,  '  Isn't  she 
gone  yet?'  That's  the  sympathy  of  the  workhouse." 

"  I  want  to  get  out  of  England,  abroad,  and  be 
independent,"  said  Julia. 


34  *&    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

He  looked  at  an  old  clock  upon  the  mantelpiece. 
The  hour  was  about  eight.  He  asked  her  if  she 
would  have  some  whisky  and  water,  and  on  her 
declining,  he  mixed  a  draught  for  himself,  then 
went  to  the  door  and  called  to  Bax,  leaving  the 
girl  to  wonder  what  he  meant  to  do.  The  farmer 
arrived. 

"  Bax,"  said  the  sailor,  "  you  have  given  us  a 
capital  supper." 

"  I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,"  answered  Bax. 

"  This  is  an  excellent  whisky,"  continued  Hardy, 
"  and  I  drink  your  health  "  —  here  he  sipped  — 
"  and  the  health  of  your  worthy  daughter  "  —  here 
he  sipped  again  —  "  in  your  very  hospitable  gift." 

Bax  grinned,  and  said,  "  We  make  no  charge. 
You're  my  guests,  and  you're  welcome." 

"  Bax,"  said  Hardy,  "  haven't  you  a  spring  cart?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Bax. 

"Got  a  horse?" 

"  Got  a  pretty  little  mare." 

"  Will  you  drive  me  over  to  Captain  Armstrong's 
as  soon  as  possible  to  fetch  this  young  lady's 
luggage?" 

Julia  started  in  her  chair,  and  said,  "  Don't 
trouble,  Mr.  Hardy.  My  father  will  send  the  box 
on  to  me  when  he  gets  my  address  in  London." 

"  How  d'ye  know  he  will  ?  "  inquired  Hardy. 

"  Ah !  "  murmured  Bax. 

"  Suppose  the  stepmother  declines  to  let  the  box 
go  ?  "  said  Hardy.  "  Now  you'll  want  all  the  clothes 
you've  got  and  can  get,  Miss  Armstrong,  if  you  mean 
to  colonise.  Bax,  bear  a  hand,  my  lad;  clap  your 
mare  to  the  cart,  and  report  when  you're  ready." 

He  spoke  as  if  he  was  on  the  quarter-deck  of 


«$»  Bax's  Farm  «$»  35 

a  ship  and  making  the  sailors  jump  for  their 
lives,  and  Bax  went  out,  saying,  "  I'll  not  be  ten 
minutes." 

"  How  good  you  are  to  me !  "  exclaimed  Julia, 
gathering  the  side  of  her  pocket-handkerchief  un- 
consciously, and  looking  at  him  with  eyes  that 
seemed  to  tremble  with  emotion.  "  What  should  I 
have  done  had  you  not  found  me?  I  might  have 
died  under  that  hedge." 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  Hardy ;  "  how  far  off  from 
here  does  your  father  live  ?  " 

She  reflected  and  answered,  "  Quite  six  miles." 

"  Well,  we  shall  be  back  with  your  box  before  ten. 
Don't  sit  up ;  you  want  all  the  rest  you  can  get.  To- 
morrow will  be  full  of  business." 

"  Oh ! "  cried  Julia,  "  I  hope  there  will  be  no 
trouble.  Father  may  —  He  won't  like  you  to  know 
that  I  have  run  away.  He  may  insist  upon  return- 
ing with  you,  or  coming  here." 

"If  he  is  at  home  he  may,  and  we'll  give  him  a 
lift  with  pleasure." 

"  I  should  refuse  to  meet  him,"  cried  the  girl, 
standing  up  in  a  sudden  passion  of  indignation. 
"  He  has  seen  me  suffer  and  has  looked  on.  If  he 
comes  here  it  is  not  for  me,  but  for  that"  and  she 
pointed  to  the  bottle  of  whisky. 

"  You  shall  have  your  box  of  clothes,  anyhow," 
said  Hardy,  smoking  coolly  and  looking  at  the  girl ; 
and  three  minutes  after  he  had  said  this  Miss  Bax 
came  in,  and  reported  that  "  father  and  the  cart  was 
at  the  gate." 

"  Don't  let  Miss  Armstrong  sit  up,"  said  Hardy. 
"  Do  those  chaps  back  talk  very  loud?  " 

"  When    they    arguefy,"    answered    Miss    Bax. 


36    ^    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

"  They're  wrangling  over  the  age  of  the  queen 
now." 

"  Well,  when  Miss  Armstrong  goes  to  bed  silence 
them,"  said  Hardy,  "  for  I  want  the  lady  to  sleep 
well.  We  shall  meet  at  breakfast,"  said  he,  turning 
to  Julia  and  taking  her  hand. 

"  I  shall  wait  up  for  you.  How  could  I  sleep?  " 
she  replied. 

He  smiled,  but  answered  nothing,  filled  and  re- 
lighted his  pipe,  and  walked  out. 

The  drive  was  pleasant,  down-hill.  The  road 
stretched  before  them  like  satin  with  the  dust  of  it, 
and  many  spacious  groups  of  trees  lifted  their  mo- 
tionless shapes  against  the  sky-line  of  the  tall  land 
and  the  stars  twinkling  above  it.  Specks  of  light  in 
houses  reposed  like  glow  worms  in  the  deep  shades 
of  the  valley  and  up  the  acclivities,  but  the  river 
streamed  in  blackness,  and  the  lamps  of  a  small 
town  past  the  railway  station  were  lost  behind  the 
bend. 

Hardy  stared  at  his  father's  house  as  they  drove 
past,  always  in  darkness  on  this  side,  but  he  knew 
there  would  be  lights  in  the  windows  which  over- 
looked the  grounds  that  sank  toward  the  river. 

The  house  Captain  Armstrong  lived  in  was  two 
miles  further  on  round  the  corner,  and  made  one  of 
about  a  dozen  little  villas  and  cottages,  including  a 
church  and  a  public-house.  It  was  a  very  small 
cottage,  thatched;  but  its  sun-bright  windows,  its 
handsome  door  and  brass  knocker  —  the  taste,  in 
short  of  the  man  who  had  built  it  in  years  gone  by 
—  made  it  very  fit  for  the  occupation  of  a  gentle- 
man. It  was  sunk  deep  in  a  broad  piece  of  garden 
land,  and  the  apple-trees,  whose  boughs  were  laden, 
scented  the  still  night  air  refreshingly. 


*f»  Bax's  Farm  «$»  37 

"  Here  we  be,"  said  Bax,  drawing  up,  and  the 
sailor  sprang  off  the  cart,  and  walked  down  the  path 
to  the  door  with  the  brass  knocker. 

He  hammered  briskly,  and  tugged  at  a  metal 
knob  which  shivered  a  little  bell  into  ecstasies  of 
alarm.  A  small  dog  barked  shrilly  with  terror  and 
hate,  and  in  a  minute  the  door  was  opened  by  a 
servant,  past  whom  the  small  dog  fled,  and  tried  to 
marry  his  teeth  in  Hardy's  right  boot.  A  kick 
rushed  the  little  beast  back  into  the  passage,  and 
Hardy  said  to  the  servant,  "  I  have  called  for  Miss 
Armstrong's  trunk." 

"  Oh,  indeed,"  she  said,  looking  behind  her. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I'm  in  a  hurry. 
I've  six  miles  to  go.  Is  Captain  Armstrong  in?" 

"  No,"  was  the  answer,  and  as  the  servant  spoke 
a  door  on  the  right  of  the  passage  was  thrown  open, 
and  the  figure  of  a  stout  woman  stood  between 
Hardy  and  the  flame  of  the  oil-float  which  illumi- 
nated the  passage  at  the  extremity. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  and  what  does  he  want  ?  "  said  the 
stout  figure,  approaching  by  two  or  three  paces. 

"  I  am  Mr.  Hardy,  son  of  your  husband's  doctor," 
was  the  reply,  "  and  I  have  called  for  Miss 
Armstrong's  trunk.  It  stands  ready  corded  in  her 
bedroom,  and  I  am  in  a  hurry." 

"Where  is  Miss  Armstrong  going?"  said  the 
stout  figure,  who  was  indeed  Mrs.  Armstrong. 

"  To  the  ends  of  the  earth  to  escape  you,"  he 
answered.  "  Bax,"  he  roared,  "  fling  your  reins 
over  the  gate-post,  and  come  and  lend  me  a  hand  to 
ship  the  box  in  your  cart." 

"  The  box  shall  not  leave  this  house  without  Cap- 
tain Armstrong's  permission,"  said  Mrs.  Armstrong, 


38    +    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «* 

who,  poor  as  the  light  was,  you  could  see  carried 
a  great  deal  of  colour  in  her  face  of  a  streaky  or 
venous  nature;  her  eyes  were  small,  and  gazed 
with  rapid  winks  as  though  they  snapped  at  you  as 
you  snap  the  hammer  of  a  revolver;  her  bust  was 
immense;  her  black  hair  was  smoothed  like  streaks 
of  paint  down  her  cheeks  and  round  her  ears,  and 
she  wore  a  cap  with  something  in  it  that  nodded, 
giving  more  significance  to  her  words  than  they 
needed. 

"  Where  is  Captain  Armstrong?  "  said  the  sailor. 

"  Out,"  was  the  reply. 

"  He'll  not  care  whether  I  take  it  or  leave  it."  He 
could  not  bring  himself  to  speak  even  civilly  to  her. 
"  Whilst  you  fetch  him  we'll  tranship  it,  and  the 
captain  can  get  in  and  argue  the  point  whilst  we 
drive  away.  Come  along,  Bax.  Sally,  show  us  the 
road  to  the  young  lady's  bedroom." 

"  Maria,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Armstrong,  cold  and 
bitter,  "  go  and  knock  on  Constable  Rogers's  door, 
and  tell  him  to  come  here  at  once." 

"  Shall  I  fetch  the  master  also  ?  "  said  Maria, 
quivering  in  her  figure  in  the  hot  anticipation  of 
rushing  out. 

"  No,  the  walk  is  too  long.  I  want  you  back,  and 
the  constable." 

The  girl  shot  up  the  walk. 

"  Bax,"  said  Hardy,  "  come  along.  We'll  easily 
find  the  room." 

Bax  hung  in  the  wind. 

"What's  the  constable  a-going  to  say?"  he 
muttered.  "  Won't  it  be  breaking  in  if  we  enters 
without  the  missis's  leave?  " 

Hardy  looked  at  him,  and  then  stepped  to  the 
foot  of  the  staircase. 


*f>  Bax's  Farm  «^»  39 

"  You  dare  not  go  up-stairs,  sir !  "  said  Mrs.  Arm- 
strong, in  a  voice  that  trembled. 

Hardy  mounted. 

"  The  constable  shall  lock  you  up,"  shrieked  the 
enraged  woman. 

"  Coom  down,  coom  down,  Mr.  Hardy,"  sang  out 
Bax.  "  The  constable'll  make  it  right." 

Hardy  pulled  out  a  box  of  wax  matches  and 
struck  one.  The  landing  was  in  darkness,  and  he 
wanted  to  see.  He  guessed  the  girl's  bedroom  by 
intuition,  opened  the  door,  and  saw  the  trunk  —  a 
small  one  —  seized  the  handle,  and  dragged  it  to  the 
head  of  the  staircase.  It  was  lighter  than  a  sea 
chest,  and  with  a  heave  he  settled  it  on  his  shoulder, 
and  went  creaking  down-stairs. 

"  I  defy  you  to  take  that  box  out  of  my  house 
without  my  leave,"  yelled  Mrs.  Armstrong. 

Hardy  seemed  cool,  but  his  spirits  were  in  a  blaze. 
He  regarded  the  sending  for  a  constable  as  an  atro- 
cious act  of  insolence,  and  he  walked  past  the 
woman,  not  in  the  smallest  degree  caring  whether 
he  plunged  the  corner  of  the  box  into  her  head  or 
not.  She  took  care,  however,  to  give  him  a  wide 
berth,  and  he  passed  through  the  house  door,  whilst 
the  little  dog  barked  furiously  at  a  safe  distance  at 
the  end  of  the  passage. 

"  Give  me  a  hand  with  this,"  said  he  to  Bax. 
"  This  is  no  business  of  the  constable.  The  box 
belongs  to  a  young  lady  who  wants  it,  and  I  intend 
that  she  shall  have  it." 

"  Mr.  Hardy,"  answered  Bax,  "  I'd  rather  not 
meddle  with  the  box  till  the  constable  cooms;  he'll 
be  'ere  in  a  minute.  He  allus  smokes  his  pipe  by  his 
fireside  at  this  hour.  If  it  should  be  the  wrong 
box  —  " 


40    «*»    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  + 

"  It's  the  right  box,"  exclaimed  Hardy,  standing 
with  the  trunk  on  his  shoulder. 

"  I'd.  rather  wait  for  Rogers  to  make  it  all  right," 
said  Bax. 

Hardy  sent  a  sea  blessing  at  his  head,  and  without 
another  word  walked  rapidly  to  the  cart,  threw  the 
box  in,  took  the  reins  off  the  gate,  sprang  on  to 
the  seat,  and  drove  off. 

"  Stop,  sir;  stop,  for  God's  sake!  "  shouted  Bax, 
beginning  to  run.  But  he  was  too  fat  to  run.  He 
was  blowing  hard  when  he  gained  the  road,  and 
stood  staring  after  his  cart.  Hardy  whipped  the 
mare  into  a  gallop,  and  gained  the  farm  in  half 
the  time  that  Bax  would  have  taken  to  measure 
the  ground.  He  drew  up  at  the  gate,  secured  the 
horse  by  the  reins,  and,  shouldering  the  trunk, 
marched  to  the  door,  and  was  admitted  by  Miss 
Bax. 

"  Where's  father?  "  was  her  first  cry. 

"  I  left  him  enjoying  a  yarn  with  Mrs.  Arm- 
strong," answered  Hardy,  thrusting  with  the  trunk 
into  the  room,  where  Julia  was  still  sitting  just 
as  he  had  left  her.  "  There  are  your  clothes,  Miss 
Armstrong,"  said  the  sailor,  lowering  the  box  on  to 
the  floor. 

"  Father's  come  to  no  'urt,  I  hope?  "  said  Miss 
Bax,  addressing  Miss  Armstrong. 

Hardy  related  exactly  the  story  of  his  repulse 
by  the  insolent  stepmother,  his  bringing  the  box 
down-stairs  alone,  Bax's  fear  of  the  law,  and  so 
forth. 

"  And  now,"  said  he,  "  as  you've  not  gone  to  bed, 
Miss  Armstrong,  I'll  sit  down  and  keep  you  com- 
pany, and  smoke  one  more  pipe,  and  wait  for  the 
constable." 


«^  Bax's  Farm  «f»  41 

"  Well,  if  father's  all  right,"  said  Miss  Bax,  "  he'll 
be  here  with  the  constable,  and  soon,  I  hope;  but 
it's  all  up-hill,  and  his  wind  don't  favour  him.  I've 
got  help  at  the  back,  and  will  put  the  mare  up," 
and  thus  speaking  she  passed  out,  and  left  the  young 
couple  alone. 

"  So  she  actually  sent  for  a  constable !  "  exclaimed 
Julia,  whilst  Hardy  filled  his  pipe,  and  looked  at  the 
grog  bottle  on  the  table.  "  Could  you  imagine  a 
more  horrible  woman?  " 

"  Here  are  the  goods  anyhow,"  said  Hardy,  strik- 
ing a  match.  "  It's  your  box,  of  course  —  I  mean, 
I've  made  no  mistake,  I  hope." 

"  Certainly  it  is  my  box,"  she  exclaimed,  slightly 
flushing  and  poising  her  hands  on  her  hips,  and 
dropping  her  head  at  him  in  a  posture  that  bright- 
ened his  eyes  with  delight,  "  and  all  I  possess  in  this 
wide  world  is  in  it." 

"  I  would  not  like  to  be  the  constable  if  he  touches 
it  or  is  even  insolent  over  it,"  said  Hardy,  stretching 
backwards  his  broad  shoulders,  with  a  glance  at 
himself  in  the  little  fly-protected  mirror.  He  then 
poured  out  some  whisky  and  water,  and  sat  down 
near  Julia. 

"  She  did  not  express  any  astonishment  at  my 
leaving  home?  "  said  the  girl. 

"  The  dog  did  most  of  the  talk,"  he  answered, 
"  and  made  for  my  choicest  corn,"  and  he  looked 
at  his  boot,  which  exhibited  the  indent  of  the  beast's 
teeth.  "  How  your  father  could  have  —  " 

"  Was  she  drunk  ?  "  asked  Julia. 

"  I  dare  say  she  was.  Some  people  get  drunk 
without  showing  it.  Miss  Armstrong,  I  am  no 
longer  surprised  that  you  should  run  away." 


42    *$»    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f> 

She  smiled,  but  with  mingled  sadness  and  bitter- 
ness, and  said,  "  If  my  father  comes  in  with  Bax 
and  the  constable,  I  shall  walk  out,  and  I  beg  you 
to  give  me  your  protection,  Mr.  Hardy,  and  to  save 
me  from  seeing  him." 

Hardy  bowed,  but  made  no  answer.  He  was  a 
man  of  careless  thoughts  and  many  heedless  views 
in  all  sorts  of  directions,  a  sailor,  in  short,  whose 
horizon  was  salt  and  limited,  yet  he  could  not  help 
feeling  shocked  at  the  extravagance  of  fear  and 
dislike  which  the  half -pay  captain  had  by  bitter 
neglect  and  a  Christless  marriage  excited  in  the 
breast  of  a  girl  who  seemed  a  true-hearted,  heroic 
young  woman,  beautiful  of  figure,  and  with  a  face 
of  romantic  interest. 

"  Can  the  constable  do  anything  if  he  comes  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  the  sailor,  "  he  can  walk 
out.  In  what  law  book  is  it  written  that  a  man 
may  not  possess  his  own?  That  is  yours,"  said 
he,  pointing  to  the  trunk,  "  and  if  Constable  Rogers 
touches  it  we'll  have  him  before  the  magistrates, 
of  whom,  by  the  way,  my  father  is  one." 

He  looked  at  her  very  thoughtfully,  and  she 
looked  at  him  till  her  gray  eyes  drooped  to  her  lap. 
The  Persian  kitten  had  left  the  room,  and  she  had 
nothing  to  toy  with  but  her  handkerchief.  Now, 
by  the  expression  of  Hardy's  face,  you  could  have 
said  that  he  fastened  his  eyes  upon  her,  not  out  of 
feeling,  nor  out  of  the  sense  of  being  alone  with 
her,  nor  of  the  enjoyment  of  the  spectacle  of  her 
matchless  figure,  but  because  he  was  maturing 
thoughts  concerning  her  well-being.  He  had  cer- 
tainly a  most  honest  face,  and  you  tasted  the  man- 


<•»  Bax's  Farm  <+  43 

liness  of  his  nature  in  each  utterance  and  in  every 
smile. 

"  I  want  to  talk  to  you,"  said  he,  "  about  our 
arrival  in  London.  I  must  get  you  close  to  the 
docks.  I'll  put  you  in  the  way  of  making  a  few 
inquiries  whilst  I  am  busy  on  board  my  ship ;  mean- 
while I  shall  be  asking  questions." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Hardy,  what  should  I  have  done  had 
I  not  met  you?"  she  cried,  in  an  irrepressible  out- 
burst of  gratitude,  and  again  he  saw  tears  in  her 
eyes,  for  she  had  lived  hard  and  had  fared  hard 
for  some  years  now,  and  kindness  easily  broke  her 
down,  as  one  long  divorced  from  home  will  melt 
on  her  return  to  the  sound  of  the  music  that  her 
mother  loved  and  sang  to  her. 

"  Do  you  know  London?  "  said  the  sailor. 

"  I  was  never  in  London,"  she  answered. 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  a  ship?  " 

"  I  came  home  in  a  ship  from  India,"  she  re- 
plied, "  but  I  was  too  young  to  remember  the 
vessel." 

"  You  will  not  like  the  East  End  of  London," 
said  Hardy.  "  I  don't  know  why  sailors  should 
make  the  places  they  live  in  dirty,  yet  it  is  true 
that  after  leaving  Whitechapel  the  closer  you  draw 
to  the  docks,  the  grimier  life  looks.  Jack  has  spent 
his  money,  you  see,  and  is  going  away  tipsy  and 
ragged,  and  what  he  leaves  behind  him  is  anything 
but  sweet,  and  they  serve  him  as  though  he  were 
a  Yahoo.  Look  at  his  lodging-house  and  his  board- 
ing-house, at  the  dens  in  which  he  revolves  to  the 
ghastly  notes  of  a  black  fiddler,  with  objects  fit 
only  to  be  lectured  upon,  or  for  the  show  of  a 
Barnum.  Take  his  line  of  railway,  the  Blackwall 


44   *+   The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

line;  the  farmers  wouldn't  send  their  swine  to  mar- 
ket in  the  carriages,  and  so  the  sailor  travels  in 
them." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  at  sea,  Mr.  Hardy  ?  " 

"  I  went  to  sea  when  I  was  fourteen  years  old, 
and  I  am  now  twenty-six." 

"  In  twelve  years  you  have  become  a  mate  ?  " 

"  Chief  mate,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,"  she  exclaimed,  "  what  would  I  give  if  you 
carried  a  stewardess,  and  your  captain  would  con- 
sent to  take  me !  " 

"I  wish  it  could  be  contrived,"  said  he,  in  his  plain, 
straight  way,  "  but  owners  never  ship  people  th^y 
don't  want.  Even  if  I  had  influence,  an  objection 
would  be  raised  that  you  were  the  only  woman  on 
board." 

"  But  I  have  read,"  she  exclaimed,  "  that  a  cap- 
tain takes  his  wife  to  sea,  and  she  may  be  the  only 
woman  in  the  ship." 

"  Ay,  but  she's  the  captain's  wife,"  he  answered, 
with  a  smile,  "  and  if  she  were  a  shipload  of  females 
she  couldn't  be  more." 

They  then  began  to  talk  of  London  and  the  East 
End,  of  a  convenient  part  to  take  a  lodging  in,  how 
it  was  certain  that  she  must  obtain  a  berth  some- 
where or  somehow  before  Hardy  sailed ;  and  whilst 
they  conversed  the  door  opened,  and  Bax  entered, 
purple  with  exercise  and  beer. 

"Well,"  said  he,  breathing  comfortably,  as  though 
he  had  refreshed  himself  before  entering  with  rest 
and  ale,  "that  was  a  fine  trick  of  yourn,  Mr.  Hardy." 

"  Never  mind  about  that,  Bax,"  exclaimed  the 
young  sailor,  cutting  him  short  in  his  peremptory 
quarter-deck  way.  "  Where's  the  constable  ?  " 


«$»  Bax's  Farm  «*»  45 

"He  hain't  cooming,"  answered  Bax.  "He  knows 
the  difference  between  climbing  up  a  hill  and  climb- 
ing into  bed." 

"  Sit  down,  Bax,  and  take  some  whisky,"  said 
Hardy,  both  he  and  Julia  laughing ;  and  after  wait- 
ing for  the  farmer  to  mingle  some  whisky  and  water 
and  pull  a  chair,  he  said,  "  Tell  us  what  passed, 
Bax." 

"  Well,"  began  Bax,  "  it  was  just  after  you'd 
trotted  out  of  sight,  with  me  hallering,  being  afraid 
of  the  law  I  was,  when  oop  cooms  the  maid  'long 
with  Constable  Rogers.  '  Oh,  Mr.  Rogers,'  sings 
out  Mrs.  Armstrong,  who  was  standin'  in  her  door, 
*  the  doctor's  son's  been  'ere  in  Farmer  Bax's  cart, 
and  busted  into  this  house,  and  gone  off  with  my 
stepdarter's  troonk  agin  my  commands.'  '  Where's 
your  stepdarter  ?  '  said  the  constable,  not  speaking 
overcivil  —  blamed  if  I  thinks  he  likes  the  woman, 
and  he  didn't  love  her  the  better  for  routing  of  him 
out.  '  I  don't  know,'  answered  Mrs.  Armstrong. 
'  Yes,  you  do,'  says  I.  '  She's  opp  stopping  in  my 
house  along  with  the  gent  as  fetched  her  luggage.' 
'  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  '  says  Rogers.  '  Your 
duty,'  answers  Mrs.  Armstrong,  'twixt  a  snap  of  her 
teeth  that  was  like  cocking  a  goon  at  him.  '  What 
do  constables  usually  do  when  they're  called  in  to 
houses  which  have  been  busted  into  and  goods 
taken,  otherwise  stolen,  agin  orders  ? '  Here  Bax 
laughed  slowly,  as  though  recollecting  something  in 
this  passage  of  words  which  he  could  not  communi- 
cate, but  which,  nevertheless,  he  could  enjoy.  '  But 
there  was  no  busting  in  here  that  I  can  see,'  says 
Rogers,  looking  at  me ;  '  you  knocked  and  rung, 
didn't  you  ?  '  '  Why,  yes,  of  course  we  did/  says  I, 


46    «*•    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «*» 

'  and  the  gent  spoke  the  lady  as  civil  as  though  she 
had  been  a  maid  of  hanner  or  the  queen  herself.' 
'  Oh,  what  a  liar,  what  a  beast  you  must  be ! '  says 
Mrs.  Armstrong,  screaming  like.  '  He  forces  his 
way  oop-stairs,  Mr.  Constable,  and  brings  down  the 
box  on  his  shoulder,  me  standing  at  the  foot  of  the 
steps,  and  telling  him  not  to  touch  it.'  '  Was  he  sent 
by  the  party  as  the  box  belongs  to  ?  '  asks  the  con- 
stable. '  Certainly  he  was,  Mr.  Rogers,'  says  I. 
'  They're  going  away  to-morrow  by  the  early  train, 
and  she  naturally  wanted  her  box  to  take  with  her.' 
'  There's  nothing  for  me  'ere  to  interfere  with  that  I 
can  see,'  says  Rogers,  drawing  himself  up,  and 
puttin'  on  the  face  of  a  judge  delivering  a  vardick. 
'  The  lady  has  a  right  to  her  own.  Your  door  was 
knocked  on  civilly,  and  the  gent  she  asked  to  bring  it 
away  did  so,  and  there's  northen  for  me  to  meddle 
with ; '  and  with  that,  without  saying  good  night,  he 
turns  his  back,  and  walks  into  the  road,  me  at  his 
side,  and  she  hallering  arter  him  that  he  didn't  do  his 
duty,  and  she'd  lodge  a  complaint  agin  him,  and  'ave 
the  place  cleared  of  a  stoopid  old  fool.  '  She's  like 
my  cat  when  he  begins  to  talk  to  Springett's  cat  over 
the  wall,'  says  Mr.  Rogers.  '  I  wish  the  young  lady 
well  out  of  it,  I  do.  Good-night,  Mr.  Bax.'  So  I 
sets  off  'ome,  and  that's  just  what  all  'appened." 

Julia,  though  she  had  laughed  and  often  smiled, 
now  sat  looking  subdued  with  grief  and  disgrace.  It 
was  horrible  to  the  feelings  of  a  lady  to  possess  such 
a  stepmother  as  the  wretch  who  owned  the  little  dog 
that  bit,  and  horrible  also  to  hear  her  represented 
and  dramatised  in  the  language  of  Bax  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  man  who,  as  God  had  willed  it,  seemed 
the  only  friend  she  possessed  in  this  wide  world. 


«$>  Bax's  Farm  «f»  47 

Nevertheless,  they  continued  talking  until  eleven 
o'clock,  by  which  hour  Bax  had  grown  too  maudlin 
for  human  companionship. 

Julia  went  to  bed,  and  Bax  rolled  through  the 
door  to  the  back  premises  to  send  his  daughter  to 
the  young  sailor.  All  that  he  requested  was  a  rug,  a 
blanket,  and  a  pillow,  and  then  when  the  house 
was  locked  up,  and  Miss  Bax  had  bid  him  good- 
night, he  turned  down  the  lamp,  snugged  himself 
on  the  sofa,  and  lay  listening  to  Miss  Julia's 
restless  pacing  overhead.  There  was  sleeplessness 
in  her  walk;  but  the  delicate  tramp  of  her  tireless 
feet  ceased  at  last.  He  thought  of  her  in  her  lone- 
liness, and  pity  moved  his  heart,  and  he  vowed 
that  he  would  see  her  in  safety,  buoyed  by  a  full 
promise  of  independence  in  the  future,  before  he 
left  England. 

The  window  stood  open  a  little  way,  and  all  night- 
sounds  were  clear.  The  stream  babbled  in  the  road, 
and  its  voice  was  like  the  syllabling  of  the  perfumes 
stealing  darkling  down  into  the  valley.  He  heard 
the  distant  hooting  of  owls  like  the  crying  of  idiot 
boys,  one  seeking  the  other,  and  the  thin  thunder 
of  the  distant  railway  was  a  night-sound,  together 
with  the  shuddering  of  the  dry  autumn  leaves  upon 
the  boughs  as  though  the  trees  shivered  to  the  chill 
of  the  passing  moan  of  air.  And  then  Hardy  fell 
asleep. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE   EAST   INDIA   DOCK   ROAD 

AT  about  two  o'clock  on  the  following  day  a  cab 
of  the  old  type,  with  rattling  windows,  straw  as 
though  fresh  from  the  tramp  of  swine,  a  wheezing 
cabman,  encumbered  with  capes,  shawls,  and  rugs, 
with  nothing  but  a  drunken  nose  glowing  under  the 
sallow  brim  of  a  rain-bronzed  hat  —  this  old  cab, 
with  a  corded  trunk  hopping  on  top  of  it  betwixt  the 
iron  fencing,  drew  up  at  a  house  in  the  East  India 
Dock  Road. 

Mr.  Hardy,  the  gentleman  whom  we  left  asleep  on 
the  sofa  in  Bax's  farm,  got  out,  leaving  Miss  Julia 
Armstrong  sitting  in  a  cab,  and  knocked  on  the 
door,  which  was  opened  in  a  few  moments  by  a  little 
woman  in  the  clothes  of  a  widow,  clean  and  neat  in 
person,  with  a  wistful  eye  which  softened  her  face 
into  a  look  of  kindness. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Hardy,"  she  immediately 
said.  "  I  got  your  letter,  sir.  Your  room's  quite 
ready." 

"  Well,  I  can't  say  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Mrs. 
Brierley,  because  you  know  what  seeing  you  means 
to  me.  Did  your  husband  love  the  stowing  job,  and 
the  hauling  out  through  the  gates,  with  a  crowd  of 

drunken  Dagos  on  the  fok'sle,  and  the  dockmaster 

48 


«£»          East  India  Dock  Road         «$»     49 

bursting  blood-vessels  in  expostulations  to  the  mud 
pilot?" 

She  seemed  to  smile,  but  her  attention  was  else- 
where. She  had  caught  sight  of  Julia  in  the  cab, 
and  was  dodging  Mr.  Hardy,  who  stood  right  in  the 
way,  to  get  a  better  sight  of  her. 

"  I  want  a  lodging  for  that  young  lady  you  are 
trying  to  see,"  said  Hardy.  "  Now  say  at  once  that 
you  have  a  very  comfortable  bedroom  for  her  in  this 
house." 

"  You  don't  tell  me  that  you  are  married,  sir?" 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Brierley,  putting  this  question  just 
as  she  might  put  her  eye  to  a  keyhole  before 
answering. 

"  No,  nor  keeping  company  with  her,  as  you  peo- 
ple call  it,"  he  replied.  "  It  is  a  romantic  story,  and 
you  shall  hear  the  whole  of  it,  provided  that  you 
can  accommodate  her  with  a  bedroom,  otherwise  — 
mum !  " 

"  Mr.  Hardy,"  said  the  widow,  with  some  earnest- 
ness, "  you've  long  used  this  house.  You  knew  my 
poor  husband.  My  struggle  has  been  to  keep  it  a 
thoroughly  respectable  home  for  them  who  patronise 
me,  and  you'll  not  take  it  amiss,  sir,  I'm  sure,  if  I  ask 
you,  is  she  a  lady  you  can  recommend  on  your 
honour  as  a  sailor  man?  " 

"  I  swear,  Mrs.  Brierley,"  exclaimed  Hardy,  with 
great  feeling,  "  that  she  is  a  pure,  charming,  heart- 
broken lady,  the  daughter  of  a  naval  officer,  whose 
sword  was  once  at  the  service  of  his  country." 

"  Then,  sir,  I  have  a  very  comfortable  bedroom," 
answered  the  widow.  "  How  long  will  she  be 
wanting  it  for?  " 

"  She  shall  engage  it  by  the  week,"  he  answered, 


50    «•»   The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <*» 

and  walked  to  the  door  of  the  cab.  "  Tumble  down, 
my  lad,  off  that  perch  of  yours,"  he  shouted  to  the 
cabman,  who  seemed  to  have  fallen  asleep,  "  and 
carry  that  trunk  into  the  house." 

Both  pavements  were  filled  with  people,  walking 
the  everlasting  walk  of  the  London  streets.  Num- 
bers had  the  appearance  of  seamen,  some  of  them 
lurched  in  liquor;  there  were  numerous  black  and 
chocolate  faces,  here  and  there  a  turban;  grimy 
women  flitted  past  in  old  shawls  and  rakishly- 
perched  bonnets ;  roistering  young  wenches  flaunted 
past  with  feathers  in  their  hats,  with  cheeks  deeply 
coloured,  with  yellow  brows  adorned  with  jet-like 
love-locks ;  and  chill  as  it  was,  children  went  by  with 
naked  feet,  and  the  shuddering  flesh  of  their  backs 
showed  through  their  rags,  filthy-eyed,  hatless,  and 
all  the  glory  they  had  trailed  from  their  God  had 
died  out  in  the  atmosphere  of  fog,  which  added  bulk 
to  the  thunderous  omnibus,  and  made  the  fleet 
hansom  a  shadow  down  the  road. 

"  The  landlady,"  said  Hardy,  putting  his  head 
into  the  cab,  "  has  a  comfortable  bedroom  at  your 
disposal.  We  cannot  do  better.  She  is  a  thoroughly 
respectable  woman,  the  widow  of  a  master-mariner, 
who  commanded  brigs,  and  so  on." 

He  opened  the  door,  and  Julia  jumped  out,  and 
they  went  together  into  the  narrow  passage  with 
the  cabman  and  the  trunk  following  them. 

The  landlady,  curtseying  her  greeting  to  Julia, 
admitted  them  into  her  own  private  room,  which 
was,  in  short,  the  front  parlour.  The  cabman  was 
paid,  and  went  away  looking  at  the  shillings  in  the 
palm'  of  his  hand.  In  a  very  short  time  it  was  settled 
that  Julia  was  to  have  the  use  of  this  parlour  for 


«f»      x  East  India  Dock  Road         <&     51 

her  meals,  and  there  would  be  no  extra  charge.  The 
only  other  lodgers  in  the  house  were  a  sea  captain 
and  his  wife. 

The  parlour  was  worth  a  pause  and  a  look  round. 
No  apartment  was  ever  more  nautically  equipped. 
The  very  clock  was  a  dial  fitted  into  the  mainsail 
of  a  brass  ship;  the  candlesticks  on  the  mantelpiece 
represented  mermaids;  the  walls  were  embellished 
with  pictures  of  ships  ahd  those  carvings  which 
sailors  delight  in :  ships  on  a  wind,  half  their  ghastly 
white  canvas  showing  against  the  board,  and  the 
water  very  sloppy  and  fearfully  blue;  there  were 
models  of  ships,  and  an  old  galleon  in  ivory  stood 
under  glass  on  a  table  in  the  window.  A  boy's 
heart  would  have  beat  high  in  this  room.  It  was 
full  of  curiosities ;  artful  carvings  by  whalemen,  out 
of  the  bone  or  teeth  of  the  mammoth  of  the  sea; 
queer  findings  along  shore  under  the  Southern 
Cross,  weapons  of  cannibals,  heathenish  jars, 
earthen  vessels  which  had  been  the  sepulchres  of 
the  remains  of  broiled  whites. 

After  a  little  talk  Mrs.  Brierley  took  Julia  up- 
stairs to  her  bedroom.  Hardy,  who  had  often  before 
viewed  the  curiosities,  wandered  again  round  the 
room,  but  his  mind  was  musing  over  other  things, 
and  soon  he  came  to  a  stand  at  the  window.  The 
lookout  was  gloomy  and  grimy;  opposite  were  a 
tobacconist,  a  house  in  which  a  stevedore  lived,  two 
lodging-houses,  a  pastry-cook,  and  a  public-house. 
There  was  a  great  deal  of  mud  in  the  road,  the 
sky  hung  down  sallow  and  dingy,  and  so  close  that 
the  crooked  black  smoke,  _  working  out  of  a  hundred 
shapes  of  chimney-pots,  seemed  to  pierce  it  an;> 
vanish.  A  change  indeed  from  the  autumn  gloria 


52    <+   The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «•> 

of  the  country  which  the  couple  were  newly  from, 
where  the  hillsides,  still  thick  with  the  leaves  of 
the  summer,  were  gashed  with  the  red  fires  of  the 
coming  ruining  winter;  where  the  clear  pale  blue 
sky  sank  with  its  faint  splendour  of  sunshine  to  the 
sharp,  dark,  terrace-like  heights,  which  in  their  red 
breaks  and  scars  of  autumn  overlooked  the  valley 
and  the  sheltered  houses,  and  the  quiet  breast  of 
river  floating  under  the  arch  of  the  reflected  bridge. 

A  man,  thought  Hardy,  accepts  a  large  obligation 
when  he  undertakes  to  look  after  a  girl.  But  what  a 
beautiful  figure  she  has,  and  her  face  appeals  to  me. 
I  cannot  meet  her  eyes  without  feeling  that  I  am  in 
love  with  her.  Shall  I  be  able  to  get  her  a  berth 
before  I  sail?  If  I  cannot,  ought  I  to  leave  her 
alone  in  London  with  about  seven  pounds  ten  in 
her  pocket? 

His  brow  contracted,  and  he  hissed  a  tune  through 
his  teeth  whilst  he  pondered.  That  thoughtless 
devil,  her  father,  he  mused,  never  came  near  Bax's 
farm.  What  is  it  to  him  that  his  daughter  has  bolted 
from  her  brutal  home,  and  gone  away  with  a  young 
fellow  who,  for  all  the  beggar  cares,  may  leave  her 
behind  him  in  London  in  shame  and  destitution? 
'Tis  rather  a  tight  corner,  though.  And  he  would 
have  gone  on  meditating  but  for  being  interrupted 
by  the  entrance  of  Julia,  followed  in  a  respectful  way 
by  the  widow. 

"  It  is  a  very  nice  bedroom,"  said  Julia.  "  I  shall 
be  very  comfortable  whilst  I  am  here." 

"  I  suppose  you  have  told  Mrs.  Brierley  all  about 
it,"  exclaimed  Hardy,  whilst  Julia  seated  herself, 
posturing  her  head  with  her  unconscious,  inimitable 
grace,  as  she  glanced  round  the  sights  of  the 


«f»         East  India  Dock  Road         «$»     53 

room,  and  resting  her  hands  on  her  hips  and  cross- 
ing her  feet,  to  the  undoubted  admiration  of  the 
widow,  who  had  on  her  entrance  admired  her  beau- 
tiful figure. 

"  Yes,  sir,  yes,"  said  the  widow ;  "  and  I'm  truly 
sorry  for  the  young  lady,  but  don't  doubt  she'll  find 
a  berth,  and  do  well  where  she's  going." 

"  Miss  Armstrong,"  said  Hardy,  "  I'm  not  due  at 
the  docks  until  to-morrow,  and  then  I  shall  put  in 
for  an  afternoon  off.  This  afternoon  we  shall  spend 
without  troubling  ourselves  about  anything.  We 
are  human,  and  must  eat,  just  as  every  night  we 
must  put  ourselves  away  in  a  frame  of  iron  or 
wooden  pillars,  covered  with  blankets  and  sheets, 
and  sleep,  or  else  we  go  mad  and  die.  There  is  a 
decent  eating-house  not  far  from  here;  we  will  go 
there  and  dine.  You'll  have  tea  ready  for  us,  Mrs. 
Brier  ley,  by  six ;  and  if  the  evening  hangs,  which  it 
will,  we  will  look  in  at  a  music-hall  and  purchase  a 
shilling's-worth  of  pure  vulgarity,  which  to  me, 
when  perfectly  unaffected,  is  more  humourous  and 
more  artistically  refined  than  much  of  the  genteel 
comedy  of  the  West  End  theatres." 

Julia  laughed,  and  looked  at  the  widow,  who  said, 
"  I  don't  visit  the  halls  myself.  They've  got  one 
good  singer  at  Whitechapel,  I  hear.  He  comes  in 
dressed  as  a  coster,  and  brings  a  donkey  with  him 
which  he  sings  about,  and  they  say  it's  so  affecting 
that  even  strong  sailors  cry." 

"  If  he  sang  of  the  donkey's  breakfast  Jack  would 
cry  more,"  said  Hardy,  and  saying  he  would  return 
in  a  minute,  went  to  his  bedroom  for  a  wash  down 
and  a  brush  up,  leaving  the  widow  explaining  to 
Julia  that  the  term  donkey's  breakfast  signified  the 


54    <+   The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <+> 

bundle  of  straw  which  sailors  who  are  reckless  of 
their  money  ashore  carry  on  board  ship  with  them  as 
a  bed. 

Whilst  he  was  going  up-stairs  a  man  dressed  in 
blue  serge,  smoking  a  curly  meerschaum  pipe,  came 
out  of  a  bedroom  and  passed  into  an  apartment  that 
had  been  converted  into  a  sitting-room.  They 
glanced  at  each  other,  and  Hardy  went  up  another 
flight  to  his  bedroom.  Here  he  stayed  a  few  minutes. 
His  carpet-bag  had  arrived  before  him,  and  in  it 
were  a  change  of  apparel,  two  or  three  shirts,  brush 
and  comb,  and  the  like.  The  rest  of  his  duds  were 
in  his  sea-chest,  which  had  been  sent  to  the  docks. 
He  smartened  himself  up  and  looked  a  manly  young 
fellow.  The  light  of  the  sea  was  in  his  eye,  and  the 
freshness  of  its  breath  was  in  his  cheery  expression, 
and  the  colour  of  his  cheek  was  warm  with  the 
sun-glow. 

"Are  you  ready?"  said  he  to  Julia;  and  they 
went  out,  attended  to  the  door  by  the  widow,  who 
appeared  to  have  taken  a  liking  to  Miss  Armstrong ; 
but  no  one  with  a  woman's  heart  in  her  could  have 
heard  the  girl's  story  without  being  moved. 

Hardy  paused  on  the  doorstep  to  say  to  Mrs. 
Brierley,  "  Is  the  man  in  blue  serge,  who  smokes 
a  meerschaum,  the  captain  who's  lodging  with 
you?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  What  ship  does  he  command  ?  " 

"  The  Glamis  Castle." 

"  I  know  her,"  exclaimed  Hardy ;  "  a  fine  India- 
man.  What  the  deuce  does  a  swell  like  him  do  in 
these  lodgings?  He  should  put  up  at  a  hotel." 

"  His  home's  at  Penge,"  answered  the  widow, 


<+         East  India  Dock  Road         <&     55 

"  and  two  or  three  weeks  before  he  sails  he  always 
comes  and  stops  with  me,  and  brings  his  wife. 
Aren't  my  lodgings  good  enough  for  the  captain  of 
an  Indiaman  ?  " 

"  They  are  good  enough  for  the  owner  of  an 
Indiaman.  They  are  good  enough  for  a  German 
prince,"  said  Hardy,  in  his  pleasantest  manner. 
"  Should  I  bring  this  lady  here  if  they  were  not 
of  the  highest?"  And  nodding  to  her  he  stepped 
on  to  the  pavement,  and  Julia  walked  by  his 
side. 

He  was  free  in  his  comments  upon  the  nastiness 
of  the  East  End  of  London,  and  by  his  abuse  of  the 
mud  and  the  shops,  and  the  quality  of  the  passing 
folks,  he  implied  an  apology  for  introducing  Miss 
Armstrong  into  such  a  neighbourhood. 

"  It's  sweeter  to  me  than  Bodley,"  she  said,  re- 
ferring to  the  place  she  came  from.  "  What  is  the 
good  of  fine  houses  and  broad  streets  and  handsome 
carriages  to  a  girl  who  has  no  money,  who  has  but 
one  friend,  from  whom  she  must  be  shortly  separated 
for  ever,  perhaps,  and  whose  most  ambitious  dream 
dare  not  go  beyond  finding  a  cabin  as  emigrant  or 
stewardess  aboard  a  ship,  and  the  berth  of  a  servant, 
or,  which  is  worse,  a  nursery  governess  when  she 
arrives?  " 

They  walked  for  awhile  in  silence;  but  the  silence 
was  in  their  mouths,  not  in  the  street.  One  of  the 
music-murdering  organs  of  those  days  was  playing 
at  the  street  corner  they  were  approaching.  Huge 
wagons  were  grinding  thunder  into  the  solid  earth. 
There  was  a  fight  over  the  way  —  two  Italians  were 
going  for  each  other.  A  crowd  of  dirty  women  were 
dancing  round  them,  encouraging  them  by  the  stim- 


56    «•»    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <+ 

ulating  plaudits  of  the  stews.  An  optician,  with  a 
row  of  chronometers  in  his  window,  stood  upon  his 
doorstep  howling,  "  Police !  "  They  turned  the  cor- 
ner, and  the  notes  of  the  organ  died  away  behind 
them,  and  after  a  little  walking  they  arrived  at  an 
eating-house  with  big  windows,  and  a  sheet  of  paper 
stuck  upon  the  glass  with  red  wafers,  telling  what 
was  to  be  eaten  inside. 

Hardy  and  Julia  walked  in.  It  was  a  long  room 
with  tables,  separated  one  from  another  by  brass 
rails  and  baize  curtains,  and  nettings  for  receiving 
headgear.  About  a  dozen  people  were  in  it  —  some 
of  them  neighbouring  tradesmen,  some  of  them 
obviously  captains  and  mates.  With  a  few  of  the 
men  were  women,  who  were  evidently  wives  or 
sweethearts;  in  fact,  the  prices  charged  kept  the 
place  sweet. 

Hardy  and  Miss  Armstrong  sat  down  side  by  side 
at  an  empty  table.  A  waiter  arrived,  looking  hard 
at  the  lady,  and  the  sailor  gave  his  orders.  He 
guessed  the  girl  was  hungry ;  he  knew  that  he  was, 
and  if  he  could  not  have  spent  a  sovereign  when 
ten  shillings  would  have  handsomely  sufficed,  he 
would  have  been  no  true  salt.  It  is  worth  saying 
here  that  all  the  money  our  friend  had  was  about 
two  hundred  pounds,  and  he  had  come  to  London 
with  twenty  sovereigns  in  his  pocket,  and  a  cheque- 
book. As  he  was  an  only  child  he  would  inherit 
his  father's  leavings;  but  what  would  they  amount 
to?  A  country  practitioner  who  dispensed  his  own 
physic,  and  was  glad  to  get  three-and-sixpence  a 
visit !  A  country  practitioner  with  thirteen  hundred 
pounds  in  bad  debts  on  his  books,  and  a  horse,  gig, 
and  boy  to  keep!  Still,  whatever  the  doctor  left 


^»         East  India  Dock  Road         «*»     57 

would  be  George  Hardy's,  who  did  not  value  the 
prospect  beyond  the  worth  of  the  furniture,  and  had 
begun  to  save  a  little  on  his  own  account,  with  some 
light  dream  of  amassing  enough  to  enable  him  to 
purchase  shares  in  a  ship,  which  he  would  command. 

He  ordered  a  good  dinner  from  the  bill  of  fare, 
and  asked  the  waiter  if  the  champagne  of  the 
establishment  was  real  wine  or  chemicals.  The 
waiter  named  a  good  brand,  and  swore  there  was 
nothing  in  the  market  to  equal  it.  It  was  nine 
shillings  a  bottle. 

"  I  never  drink  champagne,"  said  Julia. 

"  But  I  do,"  exclaimed  Hardy.  "  Bear  a  hand, 
waiter.  We've  been  fasting  since  eight  this  morn- 
ing." 

The  waiter  sidled  away. 

"  Champagne  is  the  best  of  all  drinks  for  young 
ladies,"  said  Hardy ;  "  and  it  helps  the  spirits  of 
chief  mates  who  are  bound  away  on  long  voyages. 
What  shall  we  do  when  we've  dined?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  see  the  docks,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Not  to-day,"  exclaimed  Hardy,  pursing  his 
mouth  into  an  expression  of  disgust.  "  Let  us  hug 
the  land  as  long  as  we  can ;  besides,  it  will  be  draw- 
ing on  to  four  o'clock  before  we've  dined,  and  the 
docks  and  the  ships  in  it  will  be  invisible." 

As  he  spoke  these  words  the  man  whom  he  had 
caught  a  sight  of  in  his  lodgings  smoking  a  meer- 
schaum pipe  came  into  the  dining-rooms  with  a  lady, 
whom  you  at  once  guessed  was  his  wife.  They 
looked  right  and  left,  and  took  a  table  exactly 
opposite  that  occupied  by  Hardy  and  Miss  Arm- 
strong. The  man  who  had  been  represented  by 
Mrs.  Brierley  as  the  commander  of  an  East  India- 


58    -^    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  •& 

man,  named  the  Glamis  Castle,  was  short  and  square, 
with  a  strong,  red  beard,  and  shorn  upper  lip;  his 
eyebrows  were  reddish  and  habitually  knitted,  as 
though  from  long  years  of  steadfast  staring  into  the 
eyes  of  the  wind.  His  eyes  were  dark  and  sharp 
in  their  glances;  his  brow  was  square  as  his  form, 
and  delicately  browned  by  the  sun.  The  lady  was 
a  homely-looking  woman,  in  a  bonnet  and  velvet 
mantle.  She  began  to  pull  off  her  gloves,  and  her 
companion,  after  bawling  "  Waiter,"  in  a  quarter- 
deck roar,  gazed  fixedly  at  Hardy,  who  gazed  back. 

All  the  time  the  man  was  giving  his  orders  to  the 
waiter,  with  occasional  references  to  the  lady,  he 
kept  his  eyes  bent  on  Hardy,  who  muttered  to  Julia, 
"  I  believe  I  know  that  man."  The  moment  he  had 
done  with  the  waiter  he  rose,  and  stepped  over  to 
Hardy. 

"  Is  your  name  George  Hardy?  "  said  he,  with  a 
slight  glance  at  the  girl. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Hardy,  "  and  now  that  I've  got 
the  bearings  of  you,  I  don't  need  to  ask  if  your  name 
is  James  Smedley." 

They  clasped  hands. 

"  Let  me  introduce  you,"  said  Hardy,  "  to  Miss 
Julia  Armstrong,  daughter  of  Commander  Arm- 
strong, late  of  the  Royal  Navy.  Captain  Smedley, 
of  the  Glamis  Castle,  Miss  Armstrong." 

"  How  did  you  know  that  ?  "  asked  Smedley,  ex- 
changing a  bow  with  the  girl,  whose  peculiar  grace 
of  form,  whose  charm  of  movement,  whose  face, 
romantic  and  pleading,  with  the  gifts  of  nature  and 
the  passions  of  her  heart,  his  swift  eye  was  observing 
with  pleasure  and  curiosity. 

"  I  am  stopping  in  the  house  you're  lodging  in," 


«$»         East  India  Dock  Road         «$»     59 

answered  Hardy,  "  and  Mrs.  Brierley  told  me  who 
you  were.  Are  you  going  to  dine  here  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Is  that  your  wife?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Bring  her  across,  Smedley,  and  we'll  make  a 
dinner  party." 

Mrs.  Smedley  had  been  bobbing  to  catch  a  view 
of  Miss  Armstrong,  and  the  bugles  in  her  bonnet 
twinkled  like  fireflies  as  she  swayed  her  head. 

"  Miss  Armstrong's  story,"  continued  Hardy,  "  is 
so  moving  that  Mrs.  Smedley  will  be  grieved  to  the 
depths  of  her  kindly  heart  when  she  hears  it." 

Julia  looked  down,  and  Captain  Smedley  studied 
her  for  a  few  moments,  then  wheeled  abruptly,  and 
stepped  over  to  his  wife.  After  a  brief  confab  they 
both  came  to  Hardy's  table,  and  Mrs.  Smedley  was 
introduced  to  Miss  Armstrong  and  her  companion. 

"  Do  you  sail  with  your  husband?  "  asked  Julia. 

"  No,"  answered  Mrs.  Smedley,  who  seemed 
struck  by  the  girl.  "  The  owners  won't  let  the  cap- 
tains carry  their  wives  with  them." 

"  A  ship,"  said  Julia,  "  should  never  be  so  safe  as 
when  a  captain's  wife  is  on  board,  because  of  course 
her  presence  would  make  the  commander  doubly 
vigilant  and  anxious." 

"  Haw,  haw !  "  laughed  Smedley. 

The  fish  which  had  been  ordered  was  now  placed 
upon  the  table,  and  on  both  sides  they  began  to  eat. 
The  waiter  uncorked  the  champagne,  and  Hardy  told 
him  to  fill  the  glasses  opposite.  This  was  resisted  by 
Mrs.  Smedley,  a  homely  woman,  who  declared  that 
for  her  part  she  loved  nothing  better  than  bitter  beer. 
Again  her  husband  "  Haw-haw'd,"  and  said  they 


6o    «•»    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

would  see  Hardy's  champagne  through,  and  then  he 
would  order  another  bottle.  He  believed  it  was  not 
usual  in  polite  society  to  drink  champagne  with  fish ; 
but  it  was  all  one  to  him.  Champagne  went  down 
the  same  way,  whether  its  messmate  was  fish  or  flesh. 

"Are  you  leaving  England?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Smedley,  addressing  Julia,  at  whom  she  continued 
to  look  hard,  though  not  in  the  least  rudely,  as  if 
she  found  a  good  deal  in  the  girl  that  was  infinitely 
beyond  the  range  of  her  speculations. 

"  I  am  endeavouring  to  leave  it,"  answered  Julia, 
looking  at  her  with  her  head  a  little  on  one  side. 

"  May  I  tell  them  your  story?  "  said  Hardy,  "  for 
we  shall  want  our  friend's  influence,"  he  added,  with 
a  nod  at  his  old  shipmate. 

"  Oh,  yes,  tell  them,"  exclaimed  Julia,  a  little  pas- 
sionately ;  "  it  will  account  for  my  being  in  the  East 
India  Dock  Road,"  and  her  face  relaxed  as  she 
looked  at  Mrs.  Smedley,  who  smiled  upon  her  in  a 
motherly  way. 

Hardy  in  his  blunt,  sailorly  fashion  began.  He 
did  not  spare  Captain  Armstrong,  neither  did  he 
spare  Julia's  stepmother.  He  warmed  up,  and  put 
the  girl's  case  in  forcible  terms.  Asked  what  a  young 
English  lady  was  to  do  who  was,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  expelled  from  her  father's  roof  by  the 
brutality  of  a  drunken  stepmother,  he  related  some 
of  her  experiences  in  nursing  and  in  seeking  inde- 
pendence in  other  ways,  just  as  she  had  related  them 
to  him.  He  spoke  of  his  finding  her  unconscious  by 
the  wayside,  and  how  he  was  determined  to  take  this 
poor,  friendless  young  lady  by  the  hand,  and  help 
her  to  the  utmost  stretch  of  his  ability  to  find  a 
home,  a  refuge  across  the  seas. 


«9»         East  India  Dock  Road         «$»     61 

"  Don't  cry,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Smedley.  "  I 
have  known  more  cases  than  yours.  It  is  very  hard 
—  and  to  be  motherless — but  you  cannot  allow  your 
heart  to  be  broken  by  a  bad  woman;  and  I  think 
you  are  acting  wisely  in  resolving  to  go  abroad." 

Julia  put  her  handkerchief  into  her  lap,  and  closed 
her  knife  and  fork.  Hardy  poured  some  champagne 
into  her  glass,  and  bade  her  drink. 

"  What's  the  lady's  idea  of  going  abroad?  "  said 
Captain  Smedley,  whose  face  exhibited  no  more 
signs  of  feeling  than  had  it  been  a  rump  steak. 

"  She  has  no  money,  and  wants  to  work  her  pas- 
sage out  as  a  stewardess,"  replied  Hardy. 

"  And  when  she  arrives?  "  said  Captain  Smedley. 

"  She  is  bound  to  find  something  to  do,"  answered 
Hardy.  "  The  colonies  are  yearning  for  young 
English  ladies." 

"  Young  English  domestics,  you  mean,"  said  Cap- 
tain Smedley.  "  What  is  the  good  of  ladies  ?  What 
is, the  good  of  gentlemen  in  lands  where  labour,  and 
labour  only,  is  wanted  ?  " 

"  Why  would  not  you  go  out  as  an  emigrant,  Miss 
Armstrong?"  said  Mrs.  Smedley.  "Of  course," 
she  added,  "  I  presume  you  have  Australia  in  your 
mind  ?  " 

"  I  would  go  out  as  anything  as  long  as  I  could 
get  out,"  answered  Julia. 

"  Take  my  advice  and  don't  talk  of  emigration," 
said  Captain  Smedley.  "  You  will  be  miserably 
fed  and  miserably  berthed.  You  will  have  a  ma- 
tron and  a  surgeon  over  you,  and  the  discipline  will 
make  you  wish  yourself  overboard.  Your  asso- 
ciates will  be  mean  and  dirty  wretches,  who  would 
have  qualified  for  transportation  could  they  have 


62    «*»   The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «* 

made  sure  of  the  sentence.  Your  ship  will  be  ill- 
found.  They  talk  of  the  emigrants  marrying  on 
their  arrival.  Yes,  but  what  is  a  young  lady  like 
you  going  to  say  to  such  suitors  as  offer?  You 
wouldn't  like  to  marry  a  convict?  You  wouldn't 
like  to  settle  down  with  a  hairdresser  in  a  back 
street?  Don't  you  go  out  in  an  emigrant  ship, 
Miss  Armstrong." 

"  It  is  all  very  fine  talking  about  don't,"  said 
Hardy,  "  but  what  we  want  is  do.  Miss  Armstrong 
wishes  to  leave  England  for  good.  She  pockets  her 
pride,  and  is  willing  to  work.  She  has  no  money, 
and  I  must  secure  her  a  berth  somehow  before  I  sail, 
because  I  am  not  going  to  leave  her  alone  in  London, 
where  she's  friendless ;  and  f riendlessness  in  London 
where  all  is  opulence  and  misery,  like  the  front  and 
the  back  of  the  moon  —  one  shining,  one  ice-cold  as 
death,  and  black  —  is  heart-breaking,  and  for  many, 
Smedley,  the  invitation  of  the  dark  waters  of  the 
Thames  has  been  welcome." 

"  My  God !  you're  just  the  same  —  always  sky 
high,"  said  Smedley ;  and  he  drank  some  champagne 
out  of  the  bottle  he  had  ordered.  "  When  you  were 
a  midshipman  under  me  you  were  talking  like  that, 
and  you're  talking  it  still." 

"  Surely  a  man  can  put  his  hand  in  the  tar-bucket 
without  blacking  his  whole  body,"  said  Hardy,  look- 
ing at  Mrs.  Smedley,  whose  face  was  in  sympathy 
with  his  speech.  "  When  I'm  ashore  I  talk  like  a 
gentleman.  One  can't  be  always  cussing  and  swear- 
ing ;  and  oh !  says  you  "  —  and  his  fine,  dark  keen 
eyes  showed  there  was  laughter  in  him  —  "  Give  me 
Jack  Muck,  nothing  short  of  Jack  Muck.  Hitch  up, 
turn  your  quid,  pull  your  greasy  forelock,  mind  that 


«0»          East  India  Dock  Road         «9>     63 

you're  boozed.  Oh,  Lord !  Smedley,  ha'n't  you  had 
enough  of  it?  " 

"Miss  Armstrong,"  said  Smedley,  rolling  his  eyes 
slowly  from  Hardy  to  the  girl,  "  why  do  you  want 
to  go  to  Australia?  Why  don't  you  go  to  India?  " 

"  India,"  muttered  Hardy,  "  what's  she  going  to 
do  in  India?  " 

"  No,  but  I  tell  you  what,"  said  Smedley,  with 
emphasis,  "  such  a  young  lady  as  that  may  do  before 
she  gets  out  there." 

Julia  gazed  at  him  inquiringly,  and  Mrs.  Smedley 
turned  her  head  to  watch  his  face. 

"  Don't  you  know,  Miss  Armstrong,"  continued 
Smedley,  "  that  there  is  no  marriage  market  in  the 
world  to  equal  an  East  Indiaman  ?  " 

Julia  flushed  a  little,  but  did  not  speak. 

"  She  takes  out  young  people,"  went  on  the  com- 
mander of  the  Glamis  Castle,  "  called  Griffins.  They 
are  young  men  with  a  glass  in  their  eye  and  suscep- 
tible hearts  behind  their  waistcoats.  They  also  take 
out  planters,  merchants,  gentlemen  going  to  join 
houses  —  " 

"  And  ladies,"  interrupted  Hardy.  "  Ladies  in 
plenty." 

"  You  know  nothing  about  it,"  said  Captain 
Smedley.  "  A  few  ladies,  most  of  them  married. 
Now,"  he  continued,  "  such  a  young  lady  as  Miss 
Armstrong,  no  matter  what  position  she  fills  on 
board,  stands"  a  first-rate  chance  of  finding  a  hus- 
band before  her  arrival  in  India.  Your  emigrant 
ship  is  not  going  to  provide  any  chance  of  the 
sort." 

"  I  do  not  think  of  marriage,"  said  Julia,  who 
after  colouring  had  turned  rather  paler  than  usual, 


64    +    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  -* 

but  she  spoke  calmly  and  even  with  sweetness, 
as  though  grateful  for  the  interest  these  strangers 
were  taking  in  her. 

"  Oh,"  cried  Captain  Smedley,  with  warmth,  "but 
you  must  think  of  marriage.  It  is  a  condition  of 
every  woman's  life.  It  is  thought  of  from  about  the 
age  of  twelve  until  it  happens,  and  nothing  else  is 
thought  of.  All  the  milliners  and  dressmakers  con- 
tribute to  the  dream.  It  is  the  one  idea  in  the 
darlings'  heads,  and  of  course  it  is  a  wrong  one." 

"  What  will  Miss  Armstrong  think  of  such  stuff 
and  nonsense?"  said  Mrs.  Smedley. 

"  What's  a  girl  to  do  when  she  gets  to  India  if  she 
isn't  married  ?  "  asked  Hardy. 

"  They  want  governesses  and  nursemaids,  I  dare 
say,"  replied  the  captain.  "  Let  her  call  upon  the 
missionary.  I  took  out  the  Bishop  of  Calcutta  last 
voyage.  He's  a  dear  old  chap,  and  many  a  yarn  we 
spun  together.  I'll  venture  to  say  that  a  letter  of 
introduction  to  him  from  me  will  ensure  this  young 
lady  a  berth." 

Hardy,  putting  his  elbow  on  the  table,  rested  his 
cheek  in  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and  looked  at  Miss 
Armstrong  musingly.  Nobody  spoke  until  Hardy 
started,  and  turning  to  Smedley,  said,  "Can  you  give 
her  a  berth  on  board  your  ship  ?  " 

"  I  am  thinking  of  it,"  was  the  answer. 

Julia  looked  almost  startled,  and  exclaimed  to 
Hardy,  "  We  should  be  going  different  ways." 

Smedley  and  his  wife  exchanged  glances. 

"  I  must  see  you  safe  on  board  bound  to  some- 
where," answered  Hardy,  softly.  "  I  am  bound  to 
Melbourne;  afterward  to  a  New  Zealand  port. 
Your  ship  will  be  bound  to  Calcutta.  These  places 
are  different  ways,  and  India  is  the  same  thing." 


«$»         East  India  Dock  Road         «f»     65 

She  looked  down  upon  the  table  in  silence.  The 
other  three  saw  how  it  was  with  her,  poor  girl,  and 
how  impossible  it  was,  and  Hardy  then  felt  t his  with 
a  sort  of  yearning  of  the  heart  that  was  as  bad  as 
sorrow. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE   "  GLAMIS    CASTLE  " 

IT  was  nearly  half-past  four  when  Hardy  and  the 
others  rose  from  the  dinner-table.  Not  that  they 
had  been  eating  all  this  time.  They  had  prolonged 
their  sitting  over  coffee  and  in  talk,  and  there  was 
no  obligation  to  go  so  as  to  make  way  for  others, 
because  the  hour  was  neither  lunch  nor  dinner  time, 
and  scarce  more  than  two  or  three  tables  were 
occupied. 

Nothing  had  been  settled  when  they  stood  up 
and  the  ladies  began  to  put  on  their  gloves.  It  was 
dark :  the  dining-rooms  were  lighted  up,  and  in  the 
street  the  fog,  though  not  dense,  was  wet  as  rain; 
the  lamplighters  were  running  along  the  curbstones, 
and  in  a  chemist's  shop  a  little  way  down  the  green 
and  red  waters  in  the  big  glass  vases  dully  glim- 
mered like  the  side-lights  of  a  ship,  heading  a 
straight  course  for  the  dining-rooms. 

"  This  is  just  the  sort  of  evening,"  said  Smedley, 
"  in  which  to  visit  a  friend's  grave  at  some  church- 
yard hereabouts.  On  evenings  of  this  sort  drunken 
men  fall  into  holes  full  of  water  near  the  docks.  The 
spirit  of  the  Isle  of  Dogs  stalks  abroad  this  evening ; 
you  can  see  him  in  the  sky  and  taste  him  in  the 
wind.  What  shall  we  do  ?  " 

66 


•&         The  "Glamis  Castle"         ^       67 

"  I  told  Mrs.  Brierley  to  get  some  tea  ready  by 
six,"  said  Hardy.  "  This  is  not  an  evening  to  walk 
about  in,  and  now  I  vote,  Miss  Armstrong,  that  we 
do  not  go  to  a  music-hall  to-night.  I  am  for  lying 
snug  in  harbour ;  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  care  about  the  idea  of  the  music-hall 
when  you  suggested  it,"  she  said. 

"  They  are  vulgar  places,  unfit  for  ladies,  particu- 
larly in  these  parts,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Smedley. 

"  The  cleverest  performances  I've  ever  seen  I've 
witnessed  in  music-halls,"  remarked  the  captain, 
"  and  I  never  want  to  hear  better  singing  than  I've 
heard  at  them.  Sometimes  a  cad,  who  has  no  respect 
for  his  own  sex,  who  has  no  respect  for  himself  as 
a  man,  and  not  the  faintest  sense  in  the  world  of 
what  is  due  to  women,  comes  on  in  evening  dress,  a 
white  shirt  blazing  with  studs,  and  a  tall  hat,  which 
he  is  perpetually  shifting  upon  his  head :  and  this 
fiend  sings  a  song  full  of  double  entendres,  and  he 
sings  in  greasy  notes  with  a  lickerish  eye;  and, 
strangely  enough,  I  have  never  yet  seen  any  man  rise 
from  amongst  the  audience,  climb  over  the  orchestra, 
and  kick  the  animal  round  and  round  the  stage  into 
the  development  of  a  fresh  sort  of  music  and  another 
kind  of  words.  Otherwise,  if  you  want  talent,  go 
to  the  music-halls." 

"  Shall  we  go  to  our  lodgings  and  spend  the  even- 
ing there?"  said  Mrs.  Smedley. 

"  Yes,  and  drink  tea  with  us,"  exclaimed  Hardy ; 
"  and  before  bedtime,  Smedley,  we  shall  have  settled 
the  business  of  Miss  Julia  Armstrong." 

Captain  Smedley  gave  his  arm  to  his  wife,  and 
Hardy  gave  his  arm  to  Miss  Armstrong,  and  out 
they  went,  walking  briskly  so  as  not  to  get  damp, 


68    «*»    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  + 

and  in  a  short  time  they  arrived  at  Mrs.  Brierley's 
lodging-house. 

The  widow  had  not  expected  them  home  so  soon, 
but  she  speedily  lighted  the  gas  in  the  romantically 
equipped  parlour,  which  she  had  placed  at  the 
disposal  of  Hardy  and  Julia.  The  ladies  went  to 
their  rooms  to  remove  their  outdoor  clothes,  and 
presently  they  were  all  seated  in  the  widow's  parlour 
of  curiosities. 

"  Where  did  old  Brierley  get  all  these  things 
from  ?  "  said  Captain  Smedley,  looking  round  him. 
"  Did  he  reckon  to  start  a  museum  before  the  notion 
of  a  lodging-house  entered  his  head  ?  Man  and  boy, 
I've  followed  the  sea  thirty  years,  and  the  only 
curiosity  I've  got  in  all  that  time  was  my  wife." 

"I  feel  the  compliment,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Smedley. 

"A  curiosity,"  continued  the  captain,  "because  she 
is  all  goodness,  loyalty,  and  affection." 

And  he  got  up  and  kissed  her,  and  sitting  again 
continued  his  eulogy,  which  was  a  sign  that  he  had 
dined  well  and  felt  comfortable.  The  ladies  did  not 
object  to  tobacco,  and  the  two  sailors  filled  their 
pipes,  Smedley  observing  that  he  smoked  so  many 
cigars  at  sea  that  he  didn't  give  a  curse  even  for  a 
prime  Havana,  though  at  the  high  cost  of  seven  for 
sixpence,  when  he  was  ashore. 

"  Don't  you  think,  Miss  Armstrong,"  said  he, 
"  that  I've  put  the  case  for  the  East  Indies  strongly 
enough  to  justify  you  in  listening  to  my  advice  not 
to  go  out  to  the  colonies  as  an  emigrant  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure,"  observed  Mrs.  Smedley,  "  you  stand 
a  better  chance  of  marrying  in  your  own  sphere. 
There  are  plenty  of  officers  in  India  in  want  of 
wives,  and  I  need  not  say  — "  She  interrupted 


•&         The  "  Glamis  Castle "         •&        69 

herself,  but  acted  the  compliment  she  intended  by 
glancing  significantly  at  the  girl's  charming  figure, 
and  letting  her  eye  repose  for  a  moment  or  two 
on  her  face  and  fine  hair.  "  It  will  be  quickly 
known  that  you  are  the  daughter  of  a  naval 
officer." 

"  I  do  not  think  of  marriage,"  said  Julia,  clasping 
her  hands. 

"  I  like  your  idea,  Smedley,  of  a  letter  to  the 
Bishop  of  Calcutta,"  exclaimed  Hardy.  "  But  how 
is  Miss  Armstrong  to  get  out?  Could  you  find 
her  a  berth  aboard  of  you  or  in  one  of  your  ships?  " 

"  Well,  it's  like  this  with  us,"  answered  Smedley ; 
"  we  have  six  ships,  and  every  ship  carries  a  stew- 
ardess. Three  are  away,  and  the  others,  I  know, 
are  provided  with  stewardesses.  The  practice  is 
for  a  person  who  wants  the  position  to  call  at  the 
offices,  and  if  her  qualifications  are  all  right  her 
name  is  put  down,  and  she  awaits  her  chance.  Miss 
Armstrong  might  have  to  wait  a  long  time,  and  she 
doesn't  want  to  do  so." 

Julia  shook  her  head  slowly,  and  Mrs.  Smedley 
said: 

"  How  can  she  wait,  Jim  ?  She  has  no  money, 
and  no  friend  when  Mr.  Hardy  sails." 

"Are  you  anything  of  a  nurse?"  inquired  the 
captain. 

"  I  have  nursed  old  ladies,  but  not  children," 
answered  Julia.  "  But  I  have  had  some  experience 
in  the  sick-room." 

There  was  a  pause.  Smedley  filled  his  pipe 
thoughtfully. 

"  Have  you  a  stewardess?  "  asked  Hardy. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Smedley,  "  she  has  been  in  the 
ship  four  voyages." 


yo    «^   The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <+> 

"  What's  the  pay?  "  asked  Hardy. 

"  Four  pounds  a  month." 

"  Does  she  sign  the  ship's  articles  ?  " 

"  All  the  same  as  if  she  were  an  A.B.,"  replied 
Smedley. 

There  was  another  pause,  during  which  the  captain 
lighted  his  pipe. 

"  I  can  promise  nothing,"  said  he,  looking  at  his 
wife  as  though  he  was  trying  to  gratify  her  instead 
of  helping  the  girl ;  "  but  I'll  see  to-morrow  if  some 
berth  as  second  or  assistant  stewardess  can  be 
contrived.  I  shall  see  Mrs.  Lambert  —  that  is  the 
stewardess's  name,  and  I  don't  doubt  that  I  can  get 
the  office  to  recognise  the  need  of  assistance,  as  I 
understand  we  shall  be  a  full  ship  with  a  good  many 
children." 

"  You  are  a  real  friend,"  exclaimed  Hardy.  "  It 
is  more  than  I  dared  expect  from  you,"  and  he 
turned  to  witness  the  effect  of  the  kindly  captain's 
words  upon  the  girl ;  but  her  expression  was  as  one 
who  gazes  at  a  cheerless  prospect.  Observing  that 
Hardy  watched  her,  she  exclaimed,  in  a  low  voice, 
"  I  can  but  thank  you,  Captain  Smedley,"  and  she 
bowed  her  head,  leaving  it  bowed. 

There  was  not  much  more  to  be  said  upon  the 
subject  after  this;  indeed  it  was  easily  seen  that  the 
girl's  heart  was  with  Hardy,  and  as  he  was  sailing 
for  Australia  she  wanted  to  go  there  too,  which 
perhaps  was  not  idle  in  her,  because  it  was  impos- 
sible for  her  to  realise  that  he  could  not  marry  her, 
even  if  he  loved  her,  which  she  had  no  right  to 
imagine,  as  he  could  not  support  her  ashore,  nor  as 
a  mate,  nor  even  perhaps  as  a  captain,  take  her  to 
sea  with  him.  But  things  are  felt  and  understood 


«*         The  "Glamis  Castle"         <+       71 

which  may  not  be  expressed,  and  a  little  before 
Mrs.  Brierley  and  the  maid  came  in  with  the  tea- 
tray  and  the  cakes  it  was  arranged  that  Hardy 
should  accompany  Miss  Armstrong  on  board  the 
Glamis  Castle,  which  lay  not  far  from  the  York, 
when  Captain  Smedley  hoped  to  be  able  to  tell  her 
that  he  had  managed  to  find  a  berth  for  her  aboard 
his  ship. 

"  It  will  save  a  vast  deal  of  anxiety  and  of  time, 
and  it  will  rescue  you  from  the  horrors  of  the 
emigrant  ship,"  said  Hardy  to  Julia,  who  smiled 
faintly  and  looked  as  though  the  least  expression 
of  sympathy  would  compel  her  into  a  passion  of 
tears. 

Mrs.  Brierley  spread  a  liberal  tea  upon  the  table, 
but  not  much  appetite  attended  it.  The  subject  of 
the  assistant  stewardess  was  dropped,  and  Mrs. 
Smedley  listened  with  attention,  and  Julia  with  fic- 
titious interest,  to  the  conversation  that  was  almost 
entirely  carried  on  by  Hardy  and  his  friend.  They 
had  been  shipmates,  as  we  have  heard  —  Hardy  as 
midshipman,  Smedley  as  third  mate,  both  occupying 
the  midshipmen's  quarters  in  days  when  Blackwall 
Liners  used  to  sail  with  twelve  or  fourteen  reefers 
in  buttons  and  badges,  who  had  sole  charge  of  the 
mizzen-mast,  the  poop  or  quarter-deck,  the  quarter- 
boats  and  the  gig.  John  Company's  flag  was  then 
flying,  but  they  had  not  served  in  that  employ. 
They  afterward  came  together,  Smedley  as  chief 
mate  and  Hardy  as  third,  in  a  vessel  called  the  Asia, 
a  ship  with  long  skysail  poles,  a  stem  nearly  as  up 
and  down  as  a  cutter's,  black  as  night,  half  the 
length  of  her  aft  sparkling  with  round  ports.  They 
talked  of  this  ship  and  of  her  wonderful  passages; 


72    <+   The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <9> 

how  her  captain  would  carry  fore,  main,  and  top- 
gallant stu'nsails,  and  pass  by  ships  which  thought 
they  were  cracking  on  with  a  topgallantsail  set  over 
a  single  reefed  topsail. 

Sailors  who  have  been  shipmates  love  this  sort  of 
memories,  and  it  is  like  watching  the  coil  of  the  sea 
—  one  blue  ridge  dissolving  in  the  base  of  another, 
with  the  laughter  and  the  thunder  of  heaving  and 
racing  brine  —  to  hear  them. 

Thus  they  passed  the  evening,  with  the  help  of 
a  little  whisky  and  plenty  of  tobacco,  and  Julia, 
sitting  beside  Mrs.  Smedley,  told  her  story  over 
again,  but  fully,  and  Mrs.  Smedley  talked  of  her  son, 
who  was  a  young  curate  of  whom  she  was  very 
proud,  not  only  because  of  his  social  importance,  but 
because  of  his  eloquence :  she  declared  that  he 
preached  a  better  sermon,  young  as  he  was,  than  any 
minister  of  the  gospel  in  the  whole  diocese,  and  the 
interest  Julia  took  in  this  matter,  though  the  poor 
girl  was  thinking  all  the  time  of  Hardy  and  the  East 
Indiaman,  charmed  Mrs.  Smedley. 

The  East  India  docks  are  among  the  oldest  on 
the  Thames.  They  embody  many  chapters  of  the 
maritime  history  of  this  country.  They  are  of  ex- 
traordinary interest  to  any  one  who  knows  the  story 
of  the  ocean,  and  of  the  might  and  majesty  of 
England  as  the  Queen  of  the  Sea.  Their  soup- 
coloured  waters  have  reflected  many  different  forms 
and  types  of  ships,  from  the  emblazoned,  glazed,  and 
castellated  stern  of  the  East  Indiaman  to  the  long, 
black,  yellow-funnelled,  three-masted  steamer  whose 
straight  stem  shears  through  it  from  Gravesend  to 
New  York  in  less  time  than  it  took  the  Indiaman 
to  beat  down  Channel.  The  produce  of  many  lands 


<&>         The  "Glamis  Castle"         +       73 

litters  the  quays  and  fills  the  sheds.  The  steam 
winch  rattles,  the  giant  arm  of  crane  swings  its  tons, 
the  stevedore  shouts  in  the  depths,  and  the  mate  yells 
at  the  hatchway.  The  tall  masts  rise  into  the  air, 
lifting  their  topmost  yards  into  the  yellow  obscurity 
up  there ;  figures  dangle  on  the  foot  ropes,  or  jockey 
the  yard-arms.  The  house  bunting  of  a  score  of 
firms  makes  a  festival  to  the  eye,  and  alongside  is 
the  barge,  whose  slender  company  do  not  pay  the 
dues,  and  whose  language  is  beyond  the  dreams  of 
Houndsditch. 

It  was  Wednesday  afternoon,  about  three  o'clock, 
and  the  docks  were  full  of  the  animation  of  the 
coming  and  going,  and  the  loading  and  the  dis- 
charging ships.  The  air  trembled  with  hoarse  voices, 
with  the  passage  of  locomotives  and  wagons,  with 
the  rattle  of  steam  machinery,  with  the  hissing  of 
escaping  vapour.  It  was  the  Isle  of  Dogs,  and  the 
afternoon  was  somewhat  foggy.  In  one  basin  lay 
a  number  of  fine  ships,  nearly  all  sailing  ships,  for 
there  were  very  few  funnels  to  be  seen  in  those  days, 
and  along  the  edge  of  the  wall  of  this  basin  two 
people  were  walking  —  Hardy  and  Julia  Armstrong. 
They  were  two  of  a  great  many  other  persons,  who 
were  labourers,  sailors,  and  so  forth;  and  as  they 
walked  slowly,  for  the  road  was  obstructed  by  goods 
and  machinery  as  well  as  by  toilers,  lumpers,  and 
loafers,  Hardy,  pointing  to  a  ship  lying  on  the  other 
side  of  the  basin,  exclaimed: 

"  That's  the  York." 

Julia  stopped  to  look  at  her.  She  was  not  in  trim 
to  be  seen  to  advantage ;  her  sails  were  not  bent,  her 
running  gear  was  not  rove,  but  all  saving  her  royal 
yards  were  aloft,  and  her  model,  though  light  and 


74   <+   The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$> 

showing  the  green  sheathing,  was  visible  in  such 
perfection  of  run,  in  such  elegance  of  elliptic  stern, 
in  such  swelling  beauty  and  fining  grace  of  schooner 
cut-water  and  flaring  bow,  as  could  be  matched  only 
by  those  lovely  creations  of  the  ship-builders'  art, 
the  Aberdeen  clippers. 

"  She  is  a  beautiful  vessel,"  exclaimed  Julia.  "  I 
wish  you  commanded  her." 

"  So  do  I,"  answered  Hardy,  running  a  critical 
eye  over  the  ship. 

"Do  you  like  the  captain?" 

"  I  know  his  name,"  answered  Hardy,  "  but  I've 
not  yet  met  him.  He  replaced  a  gray-haired  man 
who  was  a  philanthropist,  and  held  notions  and 
opinions  which  are  not  appreciated  by  ship-owners. 
He  was  kind  to  his  men,  and  owners  cannot  die 
worth  millions  if  kindness  to  crews  is  tolerated.  A 
sailor  to  his  mind  was  a  man  and  not  a  dog,  which 
astonished  the  ship-owners,  whose  views  are  other- 
wise. If  the  food  was  bad  he  went  on  broaching  till 
he  came  to  something  sweet,  and  this  was  an  enor- 
mity. He  would  go  into  the  fok'sle  and  attend  upon 
a  sick  man,  and  help  him  so  far  as  kindness  and  the 
medicine-chest  could.  His  crew  would  have  gone  on 
sailing  round  the  world  with  him  for  ever.  Such 
men  are  not  fit  to  command  merchant  sailors,"  he 
added,  sarcastically,  "  and  so  he  is  discharged,  and 
probably  will  not  find  another  ship,  and  God  knows 
what  he  will  do,  for  at  his  age  what  can  he  do?  " 

They  continued  their  walk  until  they  arrived  at 
the  corner  of  the  dock.  A  large  full-rigged  ship  lay 
there.  Her  house  flag  was  cream-white  with  a  black 
cross  in  it ;  a  delicate  space  of  bunting  that  trembled 
under  the  golden  ball  of  truck,  for  this  vessel  had 


*&         The  "Glamis  Castle"         +>       75 

short  royal-mastheads,  and  when  the  yards  were 
hoisted  they  sat  like  a  frigate's  under  the  eyes  of 
the  rigging. 

Hardy  caused  Julia  to  stop,  whilst  they  yet  com- 
manded a  view  of  the  ship's  stern  and  the  whole 
length  of  the  decks  from  the  poop  to  the  topgallant 
forecastle.  She  was  undoubtedly  a  very  beautiful 
ship,  probably  the  handsomest  at  that  time  of  them 
all  in  the  London  Docks.  Her  stern's  embellishment 
would  have  done  justice  to  the  imagination  of  the 
Dutch  shipwrights  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Dull 
as  the  day  was,  this  Glamis  Castle,  without  sunlight 
to  reflect,  without  the  sparkle  of  water  to  kindle 
stars  and  to  flash  prisms,  was  lustrous  as  though 
self-luminous  with  window  and  gilt  and  gorgeous 
quarter-galleries,  and  upon  the  sloping  ebony  of  her 
counter,  before  it  glowed  into  the  yellow  metal  of  her 
brand-new  sheathing,  were  the  long  white  letters  of 
her  name  and  her  port,  and  these  letters  you  could 
read  in  the  water  that  floated  stagnant  about  her 
rudder  and  run.  Her  main-deck  and  waist  were  full 
of  business;  her  quarter-deck  winch  rattled  its 
pawls  with  the  noise  of  a  hearse  trotted  by  tipsy 
men  from  the  graveyard  gate;  the  crane  was  sink- 
ing costly  burdens  into  the  wide,  black  yawn  of  the 
main-hatch;  riggers  were  aloft;  preparations  for 
the  long  voyage  round  the  Cape  to  Calcutta  were 
being  pushed  forward,  as  the  newspapers  would  say ; 
but,  saving  the  mate,  with  one  foot  upon  the  coam- 
ing of  the  main-hatch,  watching  the  slow  descent  of 
cargo  into  the  depths,  and  saving  the  figure  of  Cap- 
tain Smedley,  sitting  on  the  fore-skylight  of  the 
poop  with  an  end  of  cigar  in  his  month,  there  was 
then  no  man  upon  that  ship  who  would  have  a  hand 


76    «f>   The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «*» 

in  the  navigation  of  her,  from  the  wide  breast  of 
river  flowing  beyond,  to  that  other  distant  breast  of 
river  revolting  with  black  corpses  and  their  ships' 
companies  of  plumed  scavengers. 

"  There's  Smedley !  "  exclaimed  Hardy,  and  Julia 
looked  at  the  captain  sitting  on  the  skylight.  "If 
he  ships  you,"  he  continued,  "  you  will  be  sailing 
away  in  a  noble  craft,"  and  he  began  to  talk  to 
himself:  "What  a  hoist  of  maintopsail!  How 
splendidly  stayed  her  spars  are!  She'll  show  cloths 
enough  to  get  knots  from  the  waft  of  a  sea-mew's 
wing!  " 

They  walked  on  till  they  came  abreast  of  Smedley, 
and  then  Hardy  hailed  him. 

"  Come  aboard,  I'm  waiting  for  you,"  sang  out 
Smedley,  with  a  flourish  of  his  fingers  at  the  peak 
of  his  cap.  Hardy  took  the  girl's  hand,  and  they 
crossed  a  short  platform  of  planks  stretched  between 
the  edge  of  the  wall  and  the  ship's  bulwarks,  and 
descending  two  or  three  steps  gained  the  main-deck, 
whence  they  made  their  way  to  the  poop  by  the  port 
ladder.  Before  they  ascended  this  ladder  Hardy 
stopped  Julia  to  look  at  and  admire  the  cuddy  front. 
It  was  a  true  Dutch  picture  of  its  kind.  It  re- 
sembled the  front  of  a  house  with  its  door  and  three 
brass-protected,  red-curtained  windows  of  a  side, 
and  a  projecting  wing  of  cabin  on  either  hand,  so 
that  the  front  was  a  pleasant  recess  with  its  roof 
of  poop-deck  over  it.  But  the  romance  of  this  fancy 
of  cuddy  front  —  perished  for  ever  to  this  and  all 
future  generations  —  lay  in  the  carving  that  lav- 
ishly embellished  it:  a  fantastic  mixture  of  anchors 
and  flags  with  masts  in  full  sail  peering  between, 
and  human  figures  with  wings  blowing  horns. 


«$»         The  "  Glamis  Castle "         ^       77 

There  was  uniformity  in  all  this  variety,  and  the 
complicate  picture  in  the  dark  colours  of  teak  was 
fraught  with  meaning  to  the  interpreting  eye. 

The  sailor  and  the  girl  went  on  to  the  poop,  a 
fine  stretch  of  plank,  but  not  quite  so  white  as  it 
would  be  presently,  when  it  had  been  tickled  by  the 
holystone,  and  when  the  ivory  spaces  of  it  would 
take  the  sun-shed  impression  of  the  rigging  like 
rulings  in  indigo,  clear  of  the  velvet-violet  shadow 
of  the  awning. 

"  Well,  here  we  are,"  exclaimed  Captain  Smed- 
ley,  rising  from  the  skylight  and  speaking  with 
that  bluntness  which  many  admired  in  his  speech, 
thinking  it  sailorly,  just  as  people  will  inhale  doubt- 
ful odours  from  an  inner  harbour  and  relish  them 
as  "  ozone."  "  What  do  you  think  of  the  ship, 
Hardy?" 

But  though  he  spoke  to  Hardy,  he  kept  his  eye 
on  Miss  Armstrong,  and  was  undoubtedly  admir- 
ing her,  particularly  her  figure,  and  the  fascinating 
cock  of  her  head  with  its  tilted  hat. 

"  She's  the  finest  ship  I  ever  saw,"  answered 
Hardy,  with  real  enthusiasm.  "  What  a  marvel- 
lous stern!  what  a  delightful  cuddy  front!" 

"  Meant  to  astonish  the  natives,"  said  Smedley. 
"  They  have  settled  the  choice  of  more  than  one 
coloured  nob,  and  left  the  other  passenger  ships 
nowhere." 

"Well,  and  what  news,  Smedley?"  said  Hardy. 

"  Oh,  I  think  it  may  be  managed,"  answered 
Captain  Smedley,  sending  his  fragment  of  cigar 
overboard  with  a  jerk  of  his  arm.  "  My  wife  is 
below :  let's  go  down  to  her." 

They  descended  into  what  was  then  called  the 


78    +   The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  ^ 

cuddy  by  way  of  the  companion  steps,  and  this 
interior  was  worthy  its  wonderful  front.  Narrow 
slips  of  looking-glass  upon  the  walls  of  it,  and 
between  each  slip  was  a  picture  representing  some 
Indian  scene.  The  effect  was  brilliant  and  novel; 
determination  to  delight  the  Oriental  eye  was 
visible  in  the  grotesque  figuration  of  the  three  lamps 
hanging  over  the  table.  A  Japanese  artist,  delirious 
with  opium,  might  have  imagined  the  extraordinary 
shapes  which  supported  the  globes.  All  was  luxury 
and  originality.  Aft  on  either  hand  and  athwart- 
ships  were  cabins,  but  the  main  accommodation  was 
to  be  sought  in  the  steerage,  which  was  gained  by  a 
wide  staircase,  conducting  through  a  hatchway  in  the 
fore  end  of  the  cuddy. 

Whilst  Julia  and  Hardy  were  gazing  about  them 
Mrs.  Smedley  came  out  of  the  starboard  cabin  under 
the  wheel. 

"  I  am  trying  to  make  my  husband's  cabin  com- 
fortable for  him,"  said  she,  with  her  homely,  moth- 
erly smile,  after  greetings  had  been  exchanged.  "  I 
hope  he  will  soon  make  his  last  voyage.  Captain 
Franklin,  a  friend  of  ours,  was  seventeen  years  at 
sea  in  command,  and  in  all  that  time  he  and  his  wife 
calculated  that  they  had  only  spent  one  year  and 
three  months  in  each  other's  company.  It  is  worse 
than  being  widowed." 

"  Much  worse,"  said  Captain  Smedley,  "  because 
you  can't  get  married  again.  The  beggar's  always 
coming  home." 

"  Let  us  sit  down,"  said  Mrs.  Smedley.  "  Miss 
Armstrong,  come  and  sit  beside  me  here.  I  am 
afraid  we  sha'n't  be  able  to  offer  you  any  refresh- 
ments, but  Jim  when  he  came  along  said  something 
about  dining  at  the  Brunswick  Hotel/' 


-9-         The  "  Glamis  Castle "         +>       79 

"  Captain  Smedley's  full  of  original  ideas,"  ex- 
claimed Hardy  as  they  seated  themselves  at  the 
table.  "  What  a  different  scene,  Mrs.  Smedley,  this 
interior  will  submit  a  few  weeks  hence,"  he  contin- 
ued. "I  see  the  gallant  captain  yonder  at  the  head 
there,  a  row  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  ranged  down 
the  table  from  either  hand  of  him.  The  table 
smokes  with  good  cheer,  elaborately  served ;  through 
a  window  yonder  you  see  an  ayah  cuddling  a  baby 
and  swaying  to  the  heave  of  the  ship.  How  the 
sails  swell  to  the  heavens  through  that  skylight !  " 
and  here  he  cast  his  eyes  aloft,  and  then  looking 
at  Miss  Julia,  he  said,  "  And  where  will  you 
be?" 

"  Well,  you  may  take  it  as  good  as  settled,"  said 
Captain  Smedley,  "  and  let  my  wife  get  all  the 
thanks,"  he  added,  not  particularly  referring  to  Julia 
in  his  speech. 

"  You  are  very  good,"  said  Hardy,  glancing  at 
Julia,  who  was  certainly  not  smiling.  "  How  shall 
we  consider  it  as  good  as  settled  ?  " 

"  You've  got  to  thank  my  wife,  she's  taken  a 
great  interest  in  the  young  lady,"  said  Smedley. 

Julia  meeting  Mrs.  Smedley's  eyes  gave  her  a 
grave  bow,  full  of  the  unconscious  coquetry  of  her 
natural  postures. 

"  It's  settled  in  this  way,"  continued  Smedley. 
"  I  saw  Mrs.  Lambert  this  morning,  and  it  is 
arranged  that  Miss  Armstrong  sails  as  her  assistant. 
Old  Perkins,  one  of  the  chiefs,  who  was  at  the  office, 
said  that  he  couldn't  see  the  need  ;  freights  were  low, 
and  the  ship  was  sailed  without  regard  to  expense." 
Here  the  captain  winked  at  Hardy.  "  I  told  him  the 
lady  was  a  good  nurse  and  accustomed  to  children, 


8o    ^    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  -*» 

and  that  the  stewardess  needed  help.  So,  Miss 
Armstrong,  you  will  sign  on,  and  you  will  have  me 
for  a  captain.  Do  you  like  the  idea?  " 

"  I  thank  you  a  thousand  times  for  your  kind- 
ness," answered  Julia.  "  This  is  a  beautiful  ship, 
and  I  am  sure  you  will  see  that  I  am  not  unhappy. 
But  —  but  shall  I  find  employment  in  Calcutta  ?  Am 
I  not  almost  sure  of  finding  employment  in  Aus- 
tralia ?  "  and  she  looked  with  a  wistfulness  that  was 
almost  love  at  Hardy. 

"  You  certainly  will  find  employment  in  Australia, 
and  most  certainly  a  husband,"  said  Smedley,  who 
took  the  girl's  hesitation  very  good-humouredly. 
"  But  I  fear  your  employment  will  be  menial,  and 
the  washing-tub,  and  the  cooking  range  don't  suit 
the  likes  of  you." 

"  It  is  very  true,"  said  Mrs.  Smedley. 

Hardy  listened  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  deck. 
His  heart  had  noted  the  girl's  wistful  look,  and  it 
was  beating  a  little  fast  in  some  confusion  of  thought 
to  his  interpretation  of  her  eyes. 

"  A  husband,"  continued  Smedley,  "  will  cer- 
tainly be  forthcoming,  but  like  the  range  and  the  tub, 
he  won't  suit  the  likes  of  you,  though  stress  of  cir- 
cumstances make  you  his  wife.  Now  it's  all  tip-top 
gentility  in  India,  with  a  real  chance  of  a  first-class 
sort,  aboard  my  ship,  this  side  of  Calcutta." 

"  Oh !  it's  marriage  you  are  always  thinking  of, 
Captain  Smedley,"  cried  Julia,  clasping  her  hands, 
and  looking  at  him  in  her  fascinating  way. 

The  captain  glanced  at  his  wife  as  if  the  conversa- 
tion was  growing  personal. 

"  Pray  remember  this,  Miss  Armstrong,"  said 
Mrs.  Smedley,  "  if  you  are  on  the  ship's  articles  you 


<&>         The  "Glamis  Castle"         <&       81 

belong  to  the  ship,  and  if  you  cannot  obtain  em- 
ployment in  the  months  during  which  the  vessel  will 
be  lying  in  the  Calcutta  River,  you  can  return  in  her, 
by  which  time  Mr.  Hardy  may  have  arrived,  and 
then  you  can  try  Australia." 

"  That's  a  new  idea,  and  a  splendid  one,"  said 
Hardy. 

Julia's  face  brightened.  "  Will  you  let  me  return 
in  her,  captain?  "  she  asked. 

"  Certainly,  if  you  don't  run  away,  as  is  customary 
with  many  who  sign  the  ship's  articles,"  he  answered. 
"  But  you  don't  go  out  to  come  back ;  a  major- 
general  may  fall  in  love  with  you  on  your  arrival, 
and  then  you'll  be  coming  on  board  to  ask  for  my 
blessing."  He  added  with  a  little  movement  of  im- 
patience, "  Is  it  settled  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  we  thank  you  again  and  again,"  ex- 
claimed Hardy. 

"  You'll  sleep  in  the  stewardess's  cabin,"  said 
Captain  Smedley.  "  Let's  go  below  and  have  a 
look  at  it.  By  the  way,"  he  added,  "  I  may  as  well 
say  at  once  that  your  pay  will  be  thirty  shillings 
a  month." 

Miss  Armstrong  blushed,  and  bowed,  and  smiled. 

"  Not  enough,  when  it's  all  taken  up,  for  a  new 
gown,  Jim,"  said  Mrs.  Smedley.  "  Where's  the 
cabin,  lovey  ?  " 

They  all  went  down  the  broad  steps,  conducting  to 
what  was  then  called  the  steerage,  in  which  the  first- 
class  cabin  passengers  were  berthed,  though  in  these 
days  the  word  steerage  is  wholly  associated  with 
third-class  people  and  German  Jews,  who  quarrel 
over  packs  of  greasy  cards.  The  ship  had  plenty 
of  beam,  and  the  steerage  was  spacious  for  a  vessel 


82    «*    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  ^ 

of  her  burden.  The  cabins  ran  well  forward,  and 
there  was  plenty  of  them.  The  central  deck  would 
be  carpeted  when  the  ship  was  ready  for  sea.  Hand- 
some bunks,  washstands,  chest  of  drawers,  and  other 
furniture,  made  every  cabin  resemble  a  snug  little 
bedroom,  and  the  port-holes  were  large,  with  plenty 
of  room  for  the  passage  of  the  thrilling  and  soothing 
gush  of  blue  breeze,  when  the  flying-fish  should  be 
starting  from  the  metalled  fore-foot  in  flights  of 
pearly  light,  and  when  the  sun  should  hang  in  a 
roasting  eye  over  the  foretopgallant  yard-arm.  The 
stewardess's  berth  was  small  but  cosy:  two  fore- 
and-aft  bunks,  the  same  conveniences  as  in  the  other 
cabins  —  and  this  was  to  be  Julia's  bedroom. 

She  lingered  a  little  looking  around  her,  and  the 
others  paused  to  humour  her. 

Then  said  Captain  Smedley,  "  I  am  hungry.  Let 
us  go  and  get  something  to  eat  at  the  Brunswick 
Hotel." 


CHAPTER   V. 

CAPTAIN    LAYARD 

A  LITTLE  later  than  three  weeks  from  the  date 
on  which  our  friends  had  dined  together  at  the 
Brunswick  Hotel,  in  the  East  India  Docks,  a  fine, 
full-rigged  ship  was  sailing  slowly  in  rhythmic  lifts 
and  falls,  as  full  of  sweet  grace  as  the  cadence  and 
movement  of  lovely  music,  through  the  dark  blue 
evening  waters  of  the  Atlantic,  about  two  hundred 
miles  to  the  southward  of  the  Chops,  and  the  autumn 
glory  of  the  fast  westering  sun  clothed  her. 

She  was  the  well-known  clipper  ship  York,  bound 
to  Melbourne  and  to  another  port,  and  she  had 
followed,  after  four  days,  another  beautiful  vessel 
which  we  have  inspected  —  I  mean  the  Glamis 
Castle,  bound,  as  the  York  was  bound,  for  the  Cape 
parallels,  where  their  liquid  paths  would  diverge, 
one  going  away  east  for  Cape  Leeuwin,  and  the 
other  shifting  her  helm  for  the  Indian  Ocean. 

The  York  had  made  a  noble  passage  down  the 
Channel,  driven  by  a  black,  salt,  shrieking,  easterly 
breeze  that  grew  into  half  a  gale,  with  soft,  dark 
clouds  smouldering  as  they  flew.  The  Channel  sea 
had  the  look  of  flint,  and  to  each  foaming  scend 
the  ship  drove  in  a  curtsey  of  fury,  as  though  to  the 
thrust  of  some  mighty  hand.  She  stormed  along 

83 


84    *9>    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$* 

under  two  topgallantsails  and  single  reefs  and 
swelling  fore-course,  and  a  swinging  wing  or  two 
of  jib  and  staysail  until  she  was  out  of  soundings  in 
a  passage  that  had  the  swiftness  of  steam,  as  steam 
then  was;  and  then  the  strong  breeze  fined  down, 
the  wind  shifted  into  the  northwest,  and  behold  this 
clipper  of  spacious  pinions  breaking  the  dark  blue 
heave  at  her  bows  into  scintillant  lines  like  the 
meteor's  thread  of  light,  with  every  curve  of  cloth 
at  the  leaches,  from  head-earing  to  clew,  of  a  faint 
pink  with  the  light  in  the  west. 

The  officer  of  the  watch  stood  on  the  weather-side 
of  the  quarter-deck  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  a  distant 
sail,  close  hauled  and  reaching  westwards;  but  it 
was  evident  by  the  expression  of  his  eyes  that  his 
attention  was  not  with  her.  A  single  figure  at  the 
wheel  grasped  the  spokes  with  an  occasional  move- 
ment, and  sometimes  a  glance  at  the  card  of  the 
compass,  and  sometimes  a  look  at  the  canvas  aloft, 
which,  swelling  out  and  sinking  in,  breathed  like  the 
breasts  of  human  beings.  The  flush  deck  ran  with 
a  fair,  white  sweep  into  the  "  eyes,"  and  you  guessed 
by  the  neatness  everywhere  visible  that  the  vessel 
owned  a  smart  chief  mate. 

The  anchors  had  been  stowed.  It  was  the  first 
dog-watch,  and  a  few  of  the  crew  were  idling  on  the 
forecastle.  Presently  up  through  the  companion- 
way,  whose  steps  led  into  the  cabin  where  the  captain 
and  the  two  mates  lived,  rose  a  little  boy  of  about 
eight  years  of  age,  dressed  as  a  navy  sailor,  and  his 
bright  gold  curls  shone  to  the  setting  sun  past  the 
round  cap  which  was  perched  on  the  back  of  his 
head.  He  was  a  beautiful  little  boy  of  the  purest 
English  type;  no  arch  Irish  eye  was  ever  of  a  darker 


<Q*  Captain  Layard  +  85 

blue  than  his.  A  drum  —  not  a  child's  toy,  but  a 
real  drum,  though  a  small  one  —  was  slung  by  a 
lanyard  round  his  neck,  and  he  clutched  the  two 
sticks,  whilst  he  looked  at  the  officer  of  the  watch 
with  a  smile  of  his  red  lips,  disclosing  a  row  of  little 
milk-white  teeth,  and  said: 

"Mr.  Hardy,  may  I  play  my  drum?" 

"  Why,  yes,  Johnny,  of  course  you  may,"  an- 
swered Hardy,  "  and  if  you'll  beat  a  smart  tattoo 
the  breeze  will  freshen,  for  we  are  wanting  legs, 
Johnny." 

"  May  I  go  on  the  forecastle  and  beat  it?  "  said 
Johnny.  "  The  man  who  has  the  whistle  will  play 
it  whilst  I  beat." 

"  Hurrah  for  '  The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me,'  "  said 
Hardy.  "  Go  forward,  little  sonny,  and  beat  the 
music  out  of  the  sails,  and  mind  how  you  go." 

Just  when  the  little  boy  was  about  to  run  along 
the  decks  an  immense,  magnificent  Newfoundland 
dog  sprang  through  the  companion-hatch  as  though 
it  had  missed  the  little  fellow  below.  The  dog  in- 
stantly saw  the  boy,  and  they  sped  forward  together, 
the  beautiful  animal  often  bounding  to  the  height  of 
the  boy's  head  in  its  delight  in  his  company.  The 
men  on  the  forecastle  all  looked  at  them  as  they 
came,  and  those  who  walked  stood  still  to  watch 
them  coming.  The  instant  the  dog  was  forward  it 
swept  its  sagacious,  beaming  eyes,  fuller  of  intelli- 
gence than  many  which  look  out  of  human  faces, 
round  the  ocean  line,  and  when  it  saw  the  sail  to 
windward  it  set  up  a  deep  baying  bark,  a  very  organ 
note,  grand  in  tone  as  the  solemn  stroke  of  a  great 
bell,  which,  translated,  as  clearly  signified,  "  Sail 
ho !  "  as  the  setting  of  the  sun  denotes  the  coming  of 
night. 


86    <&    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

"  Where  away,  Sailor  ?  "  shouted  Hardy  from  the 
quarter-deck,  and  the  seamen  laughed  out,  whilst  the 
dog,  after  one  glance  aft,  pointed  his  noble  head  in 
the  direction  of  the  ship,  and  lifting  up  his  nose  to 
heaven  barked  deeply  twice,  which  was  his  English 
for  starboard.  The  seamen  laughed  loudly  again. 

Johnny  beat  a  roll  on  the  drum,  and  the  sailors 
gathered  round  him,  and  others  came  springing  up 
through  the  forescuttle,  which  is  the  name  of  the 
little  hatch  through  which  you  drop  into  the  fore- 
castle or  living  room  of  the  crew.  The  boy  beat  that 
drum  marvellously  well ;  he  made  it  rattle  as  though 
a  regiment  marched  behind  him,  and  the  sails  on 
high  rattled  in  echo  as  though  several  phantom 
drummers  were  stationed  in  various  parts  of  the 
rigging. 

The  dog  lay  down  and  watched  the  boy,  and  a 
few  of  the  seamen,  one  after  another,  went  up  to  it 
and  stroked  its  head. 

"  Where's  the  man  that's  got  the  whistle?  "  said 
Johnny,  ceasing  to  beat. 

"  Where's  Dicky  Andrews  ?  "  shouted  a  man,  and 
another,  going  to  the  scuttle,  cried  down,  "  Below 
there!  tumble  up,  Dicky,  and  bring  your  whistle 
with  you ;  you're  wanted  on  deck." 

In  a  few  moments  a  young  ordinary  seaman  rose 
through  the  hatch :  he  was  slightly  curved  in  the 
back  without  being  humped,  and  carried  the  face  of 
the  hunchback,  the  corners  of  his  mouth  being 
puckered  into  a  dry  aspect  of  advanced  years,  such 
as  may  often  be  observed  in  people  who  are  afflicted 
with  spinal  complaints.  He  was  red-haired,  and  his 
little  eyes  were  full  of  humour  and  as  lively  as 
laughter  itself,  and  he  wore  the  togs  of  the  merchant 


«$»  Captain  Layard  «Q»  87 

Jack  —  dungaree  for  breeches,  an  old  striped  shirt, 
a  dirty  flannel  jacket,  and  a  cap  without  a  peak. 

"  All  right,  Master  Johnny,"  said  he,  pulling  a 
fife  out  of  his  pocket.  "  What  shall  it  be,  sir  ?  " 

"  What  shall  it  be,  my  lads?  '  asked  Johnny,  look- 
ing round  with  his  sweet,  delightful  smile  and  arch- 
blue  eyes  at  the  weather-stained  faces  of  the  men, 
one  of  whom  was  a  negro,  another  a  Dane,  brown  as 
coffee,  two  others  Dagos,  with  frizzled  hah  and 
silver  hoops  in  their  ears;  and  these  this  boy  of 
eight  had  called  "  My  lads." 

"  Give  us  '  The  British  Grenadiers,'  "  said  a  sea- 
man. 

"  A  dog  before  a  soldier,"  exclaimed  the  voice  of 
an  Irishman.  "  Give  us  '  St.  Patrick's  Day  in  the 
Morning,'  me  dear." 

"  Hurrah  for  '  St.  Patrick's  Day' !  "  shouted  sev- 
eral voices;  and  Dicky,  putting  his  fife  to  his  lips, 
started  the  most  inspiriting  air  that  ever  mortal 
genius  composed.  The  drum  rattled,  the  sticks 
throbbed  in  the  little  fists;  Dicky  began  to  caper  as 
he  played;  nearly  all  the  ship's  company  were  as- 
sembled on  the  forecastle,  and  many  began  to  leap 
about  and  spring  with  delight  to  the  music ;  the  dog 
rose,  and  in  a  stately  way  ran  or  waltzed  amongst 
the  caper-cutters.  That  fore-deck  then  was  a  won- 
derfully animated  picture.  The  arch  of  the  fore- 
course,  sleepily  swelling  and  sinking,  yielded  a  good 
sight  of  the  scene  to  the  quarter-deck.  The  setting 
sun  painted  it  into  a  canvas  almost  gorgeous  with 
the  streaks  of  purple  fire  in  the  tarry  shrouds  and 
backstays,  and  in  the  climbing  lines  of  the  well- 
greased  masts;  and  in  the  flush  on  the  breasts  of 
the  sails,  and  in  the  red  stars  it  kindled  in  all  that 
mirrored  it. 


88    «*    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «Q* 

The  fife  and  drum  kept  company  superbly,  and  the 
fine  Irish  air  seemed  to  thrill  through  the  ship,  and  to 
echo  up  aloft  like  some  new  spring  or  spirit  of  life. 
The  cocks  in  the  coops  abaft  the  galley  chimed  in 
with  a  constant  defying  crowing,  about  as  melodious 
as  the  noise  of  a  broken-winded  barrel  organ.  The 
pigs  under  the  long-boat  grunted  in  sympathy  with 
sounds  which  reminded  them  of  the  trough  and  the 
haystack  and  the  near  village. 

Whilst  all  this  harmless  sailors'  pleasure  was  go- 
ing forward  on  the  ship's  forecastle  the  captain  of 
the  vessel  came  out  of  the  cabin,  and  when  he 
stepped  upon  the  deck  he  stood  a  moment  with  his 
hand  resting  upon  the  companion-hood,  looking 
forward,  and  listening  to  the  music. 

He  was  a  man  of  about  forty-five  to  fifty  years  of 
age,  and  his  name  was  William  Layard.  He  scarcely 
wore  the  appearance  of  a  sailor.  The  lower  portion 
of  his  face  was  hidden  in  hair,  which  was  of  a  dark 
brown,  streaked  with  gray,  and  his  hair  was  long. 
His  nose  was  a  fine,  well-bred  aquiline,  his  brow 
square,  his  eyebrows  shaggy,  and  his  dark  eyes 
burnt  with  brightness  in  the  shadow  cast  by  their 
eaves.  He  wore  a  soft  black  hat,  which  sat  securely 
upon  his  head,  and  was  clothed  in  a  monkey-jacket 
and  blue  cloth  trousers.  No  discerning  eye  but 
would  have  dwelt  a  little  upon  him  in  speculation. 
His  face  showed  marks  of  breeding,  but  there  was 
something  else  in  him,  too,  that  would  have  detained 
the  gaze  —  a  faint,  an  almost  elusive,  expression  of 
triumph,  of  an  inward  exaltation,  which  was  almost 
dissembled,  and  subtly  revealed  in  the  mouth  that  so 
delicately  diffused  it  that  only  a  keen  eye  would 
have  witnessed  it. 


«$»  Captain  Layard  «$»  89 

Hardy  was  making  the  voyage  with  him  for  the 
first  time,  and  though  they  had  been  together  for 
some  days,  whilst  they  had  frequently  conversed  in 
the  docks,  he  did  not  understand  him,  he  had  not 
got  in  any  way  near  to  him.  But,  as  a  gentleman 
himself,  he  felt  the  presence  of  the  gentleman  in 
Captain  Layard,  and  had  picked  up  from  his  own 
lips  that  he  had  been  educated  at  one  of  the  great 
public  schools,  had  begun  the  sea  life  in  the  Royal 
Navy  as  midshipman,  but,  for  some  reason,  left  un- 
explained, had  quitted  the  white  for  the  red  flag,  and 
had  been  in  command  five  years,  after  serving,  of 
Course,  as  second  and  third  mate,  always  trading  to 
the  Australian  and  New  Zealand  ports  in  ships  like 
the  York,  which  did  not  carry  passengers.  Hardy 
had  also  gathered  that  he  was  a  widower,  who  had 
married  a  woman  of  good  birth,  the  Honourable 

Miss ,  no  need  to  name  her,  by  whom  he  had 

the  little  boy  Johnny,  who  was  the  darling  of  his 
heart,  and  who  had  regularly  gone  with  him  to  sea, 
since  his  wife's  death,  in  the  last  four  voyages  to  the 
Pacific.  Our  friend  Hardy  had  also  made  another 
discovery :  that  the  captain,  even  before  the  start, 
showed  a  disposition  to  treat  him  as  a  companion 
rather  than  as  a  mate.  This  was  so  unusual  in  sea 
captains  —  it  is  still  unusual — that  Hardy's  specula- 
tions as  to  Captain  Layard's  character  were  consid- 
erably sharpened  by  it. 

The  drum  and  fife  ceased  on  a  sudden.  The 
sailors  stood  about,  hot  and  amused,  and  the  dog 
with  its  tongue  out  looked  eagerly  from  one  face  to 
another.  The  ship  was  still :  there  was  no  slopping 
fall  of  water  alongside  to  disturb  the  calm  respira- 
tions of  the  canvas ;  the  captain,  with  his  hand  upon 


90    «f*    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

the  companion-hood,  continued  to  gaze  forward,  and 
Hardy,  standing  at  the  mizzen-rigging,  watched  him 
askant.  Then,  through  the  serenity  of  the  breathing, 
sun-flushed  air,  all  the  way  from  forward,  nearly  the 
whole  length  of  the  ship,  came  the  clear  high  note  of 
little  Johnny's  voice : 

"  Dicky,  play  '  Sally  come  up,'  "  and  Dicky,  ren- 
dered zealous  by  the  captain's  presence  on  deck,  in- 
stantly put  his  fife  to  his  lips.  The  drum  rattled,  the 
sails  reechoed  the  jolly  air,  the  feet  of  the  men  began 
to  shake,  the  dog  raced  and  waltzed  in  stately  meas- 
ures as  before,  the  whole  forecastle  was  again  in 
motion,  and  the  ship,  with  her  taut  rigging  vibrant 
with  the  shrilling  of  the  fife  and  the  roll  of  the  drum, 
floated  onwards  over  the  long,  languid  undulations 
of  the  deep,  which  were  scarlet  westwards  with  the 
splendour  of  the  dying  day  that  was  crumbling 
toward  the  sea  line  in  masses  of  burning  light. 

Captain  Layard  stepped  across  the  deck  to  Mr. 
Hardy. 

"  That  boy  plays  the  drum  with  a  professional 
hand,"  said  he.  "  He  got  the  art  himself,  for  nobody 
taught  him.  It  is  a  good  drum  —  good  enough  for 
soldiers  to  march  to." 

"  I  never  heard  better  drumming,  sir,"  answered 
Hardy. 

"  Where  did  Sailor  learn  to  waltz  ?  "  said  the  cap- 
tain, and  he  watched  the  dog.  "  How  quickly 
Johnny  has  made  friends  with  the  crew." 

"  Any  crew  of  Englishmen  would  cherish  and  pet 
him,  and  perish  for  such  a  beautiful,  manly  little 
fellow,"  exclaimed  Hardy,  with  enthusiasm  and  ad- 
miration in  his  voice. 

"  He's  always  kept  my  crews  contented,"  said 


<+  Captain  Layard  «$»  91 

Captain  Layard,  smiling.  "  Several  men  have  sailed 
with  me  every  voyage  ever  since  I  took  Johnny  to 
sea,  learning  that  he  was  coming  again." 

He  looked  at  the  sail  to  windward  that  leaned  like 
a  black  feather  in  the  crimson  air,  then  glanced  over 
the  ship's  side  to  judge  her  pace,  and  stood  for 
some  time  near  Hardy  listening  to  the  music  and 
watching  the  men  dancing.  He  said,  with  an  abrupt- 
ness that  again  surprised  Hardy  as  it  had  before 
even  startled  him  during  the  run  down  Channel : 

"  Have  you  ever  studied  the  nervous  system  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  Hardy. 

"  A  man  is  formed  of  two  sides,"  continued  the 
captain,  "  and  each  side  has  a  nervous  system  of  its 
own.  They  are  independent,  and  strange  things 
happen  in  consequence.  I  remember  when  I  was 
chief  mate  of  a  ship  called  the  Tartar  that  I  stood 
aft  close  to  the  man  at  the  wheel,  who  exclaimed  on 
a  sudden,  '  I  don't  know  what's  wrong  with  me,  but 
there's  two  meanings  a-going  on  in  my  head.' 
'  What's  that?  '  I  asked.  *  This  here  side,'  said  he, 
lifting  his  right  hand  from  the  spoke,  and  putting  it 
to  his  forehead,  '  is  a-talking  one  sense,  which  ain't 
sense,  because  t'other  side's  talking  in  a  different 
way,'  and  here  he  touched  his  left  brow,  '  and  all's 
confusion,'  and  then  he  began  to  mutter  to  himself. 
I  thought  he  was  ill,  and  calling  another  man  to  the 
relief,  sent  him  forward  and  followed  with  some 
brandy,  which  put  his  head  to  rights.  I  spoke  of 
this  matter  to  a  doctor  when  I  got  ashore,  and  he 
explained  the  dual  system  of  nerves,  and  told  me 
that  overworked  brains  would  occasionally  chatter 
inconsequentially  in  each  lobe." 

"  How  shall  a  man  act  when  his  brain  comes  to 


92    «^>   The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <4> 

a  misunderstanding  in  that  fashion  ?  "  asked  Hardy, 
gazing  with  critical  interest  at  the  captain's  refined 
but  singular  face. 

"  /  take  brandy,"  replied  Captain  Layard,  sending 
a  glance  aloft,  then  at  the  distant  sail,  then  at  his 
little  son,  who  continued  to  beat  in  accompaniment 
to  "  Sally  come  up,"  whilst  the  sailors  sprang  about 
in  glowing  glee,  and  the  scarlet  in  the  west  deepened 
into  a  rusty  red. 

"  Do  you  suffer  from  attacks  of  the  kind,  sir  ?  " 
inquired  Hardy. 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,"  responded  the  captain, 
with  a  peculiar  smile,  keeping  his  gaze  fastened  on 
the  forecastle,  "  I  had  one  just  now.  The  left  side 
grew  importunate  in  nonsense ;  the  right  side  was  all 
right,  and  quite  understood  that  things  were  wrong. 
The  trouble  was  preceded  by  a  curious  beating  of 
the  heart  in  the  ear.  It  sounded  as  though  a  wooden 
leg  was  hollowly  tramping  round  the  galleries  of  the 
brain — thump,  thump,  thump !  It  was  like  the  noise 
of  a  wooden  leg  coming  into  a  theatre  when  some 
actress  of  genius  has  stilled  the  house  into  breath- 
lessness  by  her  witchery." 

"  This  man  is  mad,"  thought  Hardy.  "  He  would 
never  converse  with  me  in  this  fashion  if  his  head 
wasn't  in  two." 

The  drum  and  fife  ceased.  Johnny,  seeing  his 
father,  came  running  aft,  and  the  Newfoundland 
trotted  by'  his  side.  It  was  four  bells,  and  the  sun 
vanished  as  the  metal  chimes  trembled  away  to  sea ; 
the  breeze  slightly  freshened  on  a  sudden,  a  sound  of 
foam  arose  like  the  song  of  a  full  champagne  glass 
held  to  the  ear;  delicate  streaks  of  white  flashed 
about  the  ocean  breast  in  the  twilight  like  some 


«f»  Captain  Layard  «•»  93 

milky  wings  of  sea  birds;  the  ship  strained  a  little 
aloft  and  hardened  her  breasts,  and  stars  of  the  east 
shone  upon  the  dark  brow  of  the  soaring  night. 

The  breeze  blew  with  a  little  edge,  but  it  was  still 
the  dog-watches,  and  the  sailors,  though  abruptly 
deprived  of  the  drum  in  which  they  delighted,  started 
on  another  dance  to  Dicky's  merry  and  excellent 
whistling. 

"  Father,  Sailor  likes  dancing,"  said  Johnny. 

"  All  sailors  like  it,"  answered  the  captain,  stoop- 
ing to  press  his  lips  to  the  child's  forehead.  "  Cut 
below  now,  my  darling,  you  and  the  drum,  and  put  it 
away  and  wait  for  me.  I  sha'n't  be  long,  and  then 
we'll  go  to  supper." 

The  boy,  with  the  obedience  of  a  man-of-war's 
man,  saluted  Hardy  with  a  flourish  of  his  little  fist  to 
his  golden  curls,  ran  to  the  companionway,  and  van- 
ished, and  the  noble  Newfoundland  vanished  with 
him. 

"  There  is  no  weather  in  the  glass,"  said  the 
captain.  "If  this  breeze  freshens  we  shall  make  up 
for  lost  time.  You'll  not  spare  her,  Mr.  Hardy." 

"  No,  sir." 

'  Those  are  my  orders  to  the  second  mate.  I  want 
to  maintain  the  reputation  of  this  ship ;  the  freight- 
ers love  her.  I  have  no  fancy  for  steam,  but  you 
can  time  it,  and  so  tacks  and  sheets  are  bound  to  go ; 
but  I'll  make  a  bold  fight  for  old  tradition,"  he  cried 
in  a  curious  tone  of  enthusiasm,  "  and  what  we  can't 
carry  we'll  drag." 

The  second  mate  had  come  on  deck  at  four  bells, 
and  was  pacing  to  leeward  in  the  deeper  shade  that 
dyed  the  atmosphere  there  when  the  freshening  of 
the  breeze  heeled  the  ship.  There  was  nothing  par- 


94   «P»    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  ^ 

ticularly  noticeable  in  this  man,  of  whom  a  fair  sight 
could  be  caught  as  he  passed  through  the  area  of 
light  diffused  by  the  cabin  lamp,  which  was  burning 
in  brilliance  under  the  skylight.  He  was  pale-faced 
and  fat  of  cheek,  very  light  eyes,  lashes  like  white 
silk,  yellow  hair,  and  great  ears  which  stood  out 
in  eager  bearing  as  though  they  sought  to  catch 
everything  which  was  said.  He  was  dressed  in  blue 
serge  and  a  cap,  and  this  was  his  first  voyage  in  the 
ship.  So  the  captain  and  the  two  mates  were  sailing 
the  York  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives. 

It  was  Hardy's  watch  below;  he  crossed  to  the 
second  mate,  gave  him  the  course  and  so  forth,  and 
descended  into  the  cabin.  Little  Johnny  without  his 
drum  was  sitting  on  a  locker  talking  to  Sailor,  who 
was  looking  lovingly  up  into  his  face,  and  often  the 
bright-haired  little  chap  glanced  at  the  cabin  servant, 
who  was  preparing  the  table  for  supper.  The  York 
had  been  built  to  carry  cargo ;  she  was  not  a  passen- 
ger ship,  though  at  a  pinch  accommodation  might 
have  been  found  for  three  or  four  persons,  friends  of 
the  owners,  say,  or  people  to  whom  the  next  ship 
sailing  with  immediate  despatch  might  be  a  supreme 
need.  In  this  age  they  would  probably  equip  such  a 
vessel  with  a  deck-house  for  the  master  and  mates. 
Her  cabin  was  small  and  comfortable,  very  plain, 
with  a  seawardly  look  that  suggested  sturdiness,  a 
very  different  cabin  from  the  luxurious  interior  of 
the  Glamis  Castle!  A  few  berths  stood  aft,  and  these 
were  occupied  by  the  master  and  mates,  and  one  was 
a  pantry. 

Hardy  stopped  to  speak  to  Johnny. 

"  You  play  your  drum  splendidly,"  said  he.  "  But 
what's  the  good  of  a  drum  if  you're  going  to  be  a 
sailor,  sonny  ?  " 


+  Captain  Layard  +  95 

"  I'll  play  the  drum  when  the  bo' sun  plays  his 
whistle,"  answered  Johnny,  manfully.  "  And  it  will 
make  the  sailors  quicker  in  running  up  aloft." 

"  So  it  will,"  answered  Hardy,  laughing  heartily, 
for  the  image  submitted  by  the  boy's  words  tickled 
his  fancy  —  a  bo'sun  piping  "  All  hands !  "  down 
the  forescuttle,  and  the  captain  at  the  break  of  the 
poop  beating  thunder  out  of  a  drum  to  hurry  the 
men  to  the  reef-tackles! 

He  lingered  a  little  to  talk  to  the  boy,  for  it 
charmed  him  to  look  into  the  sweet  handsome  face 
with  its  arch  eyes ;  'twas  as  gladdening  to  his  heart 
as  the  song  of  a  bird  or  the  scent  of  a  nosegay,  and 
somehow  the  child  always  put  tender  thoughts  of 
Julia  Armstrong  into  his  head  by  the  sheer  charm 
of  his  smile.  He  caressed  the  Newfoundland  whilst 
he  talked  to  the  little  lad,  and  then  went  to  his  cabin 
to  change  his  coat  and  brush  his  hair  for  supper, 
musing  over  much,  but  particularly  over  his  last 
talk  with  the  captain,  who  never  before  in  the  Chan- 
nel or  after  had  spoken  so  oddly  or  looked  so 
strangely.  "  If  the  man  is  off  his  head,"  he  thought, 
"  my  responsibilities  will  be  enormous,"  for  he  per- 
fectly understood  the  position  that  command  con- 
fers upon  the  shipmaster;  he  was  God  Almighty 
aboard ;  mad  or  not  mad,  his  orders  must  be  obeyed ; 
he  could  steer  the  ship  to  the  devil  and  clap  the 
mates  in  irons  for  interfering,  and  unless  the  crew 
mutinied  —  which  few  crews  durst  do,  knowing 
how  heavily  the  law  presses  upon  seamen,  even 
though  they  are  able  to  justify  their  actions  —  they 
must  go  on  obeying  the  master's  commands,  though 
the  fires  of  hell  should  be  visible  right  ahead  past 
the  horizon. 


96   <*    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

Thus  Hardy  mused  whilst  he  changed  his  coat 
and  brushed  his  hair,  and  he  also  thought  of  Julia 
Armstrong,  and  wondered  how  she  was  faring, 
and  what  progress  her  ship  had  made. 

The  Glamis  Castle  had  hauled  out  of  dock  five 
days  before  the  York  sailed.  She  had  slept  upon 
the  silent  stream  of  the  Thames  one  night,  and 
early  next  morning  was  taken  in  tow  by  a  tug, 
which  released  her  off  Dungeness;  then  with  the 
stateliness  of  a  frigate  she  broke  into  a  sunshine 
of  canvas,  and,  if  the  wind  had  prospered  her,  she 
should  be  some  five  hundred  miles  ahead  of  the 
York.  But  it  was  sail,  not  steam,  and  short  of 
the  report  of  a  passing  ship,  no  man  could  have 
safely  conjectured  her  situation.  But  one  trick  of 
seamanship  Smedley  possessed :  he  never  admitted 
the  existence  of  a  foul  wind;  he  never  sweated  his 
yards  fore  and  aft;  he  was  no  lover  of  the  bowline, 
nor  of  the  shivering  leach.  It  was  always  "  full 
and  bye  "  with  him,  though  he  was  points  off,  and 
thus  he  made  a  fair  breeze  of  every  head- wind, 
for  his  slants  to  leeward  of  his  course  gave  him 
two  feet  of  sailing  to  the  one  he  would  have  got 
out  of  a  taut,  shuddering  luff,  and  he  never  looked 
over  the  quarter  for  leeway. 

At  half-past  six  Hardy  stepped  out  of  his  berth 
and  found  supper  ready,  and  the  captain  sitting 
at  the  head  of  the  table  with  little  Johnny  on  his 
right.  You  will  consider  it  early  for  supper,  but  at 
sea  the  last  meal  is  always  called  supper,  and  after 
this  they  eat  no  more  in  the  cabin.  There  was  plenty, 
and  it  was  good  of  its  kind :  ham,  cold  fowl,  cold 
sausage,  salt  beef,  biscuit,  cheese,  and  salt  butter. 
A  decanter  of  rum  glowed  deep  and  rich  within 


«$»  Captain  Layard  <+  97 

reach  of  the  captain's  arm.  A  large  globe  lamp 
sparkled  brightly  overhead,  and  the  scene  was  a  sea- 
picture  of  hospitality  and  comfort,  sweetened  into  a 
tender  human  character  by  the  presence  of  the  boy 
who  sat  on  the  right  hand  of  his  father.  Sailor,  the 
great  dog,  lay  beside  the  captain  on  the  deck.  He 
was  too  dignified  to  beg ;  too  well  trained  to  expect. 
He  knew  his  time  would  come,  and  lay  patient  in  the 
nobility  of  his  shape. 

Hardy  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  table.  It  was  the 
custom  in  this  ship  for  the  captain  and  mate  to  eat 
together,  and  when  the  mate  was  done  he  relieved 
the  deck  till  the  second  officer  had  finished.  The 
captain  gave  the  little  boy  a  slice  of  cold  chicken 
and  a  white  biscuit,  and  filled  his  glass  with  water. 
The  swing  trays  swayed  softly  as  pendulums  to  the 
delicate  heave  of  the  evening  waters,  the  bulkheads 
creaked,  the  rudder  jarred  as  the  swell  rolled,  and 
you  could  hear  faintly  the  jump  of  the  wheel  chains 
to  the  sharp  but  swiftly  arrested  shear  of  the  tiller. 

The  captain  with  his  cap  off  disclosed  a  lofty  but 
receding  brow,  rounding  with  something  of  the 
curve  of  the  egg-shell  at  the  temples,  and  his  long 
hair  and  the  growth  about  his  cheeks  and  chin  made 
him  look  more  like  a  poet  than  a  salted  skipper. 
Hardy  had  taken  notice  that  he  stared  at  the  man  he 
talked  to,  which  is  contrary  to  the  notion  that  the 
insane  have  a  wandering  eye.  But  that  Captain 
Layard  was  not  absolutely  right  in  his  mind  the 
young  sailor  was  convinced,  as  he  sat  at  the  foot  of 
the  table  cutting  himself  a  plate  of  beef  and  ham. 

"  Captain  Pearson  made  poor  passages  on  the 
whole,  I've  understood,"  said  Captain  Layard,  re- 
ferring to  the  commander  he  had  replaced.  "  He 


98    ^    The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

was  a  very  cautious  man,  furled  his  royals  every 
second  dog-watch,  and  would  snug  his  ship  down  to 
the  first  hint  in  the  glass  to  save  calling  all  hands." 

"  I  was  told  he  was  loved  by  his  crew,  sir," 
answered  Hardy.  "  And  he  seems  to  have  been 
the  most  humane  commander  that  ever  sailed  out 
of  the  port  of  London." 

"  Well,  it  is  right  that  sailors  should  be  treated 
as  men,"  said  Layard,  staring  at  Hardy ;  "  but  most 
of  them  are  fools,  they  are  children,  they  don't  or 
can't  understand  things."  He  put  down  his  knife 
and  fork,  drew  out  a  handkerchief  and  wiped  the 
palms  of  his  hands,  then  poured  a  wine-glass  of  rum 
into  a  tumbler,  and  filling  the  glass  with  water 
swallowed  the  ruddy  draught. 

"  Some  more  biscuit,  father,"  said  the  child. 

An  expression  of  tenderness,  even  like  that  which 
might  spring  from  a  mother's  heart,  softened  the 
captain's  singular  and  striking  face  as  he  looked  at 
the  boy  whilst  he  gave  him  a  biscuit.  He  stared 
again  at  Hardy. 

"  Sailors,"  said  he,  "  don't  see  things  from  a  right 
point  of  view.  There  was  a  seaman  who  wanted  a 
Blackwall  cap  to  wear  at  the  wheel.  To  make  it 
he  cut  up  his  go-ashore  breeches,  and  to  trim  and 
bind  the  edges  he  cut  up  a  new  Dungaree  jumper. 
The  cap  cost  him  a  pound,  but  he  believed  he  had 
got  it  for  nothing  because  he  had  made  it  himself." 

Whilst  Hardy  was  laughing,  for  the  captain  told 
this  story  in  a  dry  manner,  and  with  a  twinkle  of  eye 
that  certainly  did  not  hint  at  insanity,  a  voice  was 
heard  in  the  companionway : 

"  There's  a  heavy  fog  rolled  down  upon  us,  sir, 
and  it's  as  thick  as  cheese  to  the  ship's  sides." 


«f»  Captain  Layard  «$»  99 

It  was  the  voice  of  Mr.  Candy,  the  second  mate, 
and  a  moment  after  his  step  could  be  heard  in  the 
plank  overhead  as  he  walked  to  the  bulwark  rail. 

The  captain  sprang  up  and  went  on  deck ;  Hardy 
continued  to  eat  his  supper,  and  talked  to  the  little 
boy.  It  was  his  watch  below,  and  he  was  too  old 
a  shell  to  quit  the  meal  until  all  hands  should  be 
summoned,  which  a  quiet  fog,  however  dense,  topped 
by  a  reassuring  barometer,  was  not  very  likely  to 
occasion. 

The  fog,  nevertheless,  had  rolled  down  quickly 
through  the  gloom  of  the  early  night  on  the  gust 
of  the  black  breeze,  still  nor' west.  Black  it  was. 
Nothing  was  visible  of  the  ship  but  a  few  spokes 
of  light,  like  the  arrested  darting  of  meteoric  fibres 
spiking  from  the  glass  on  the  skylight  in  a  fiery 
arch.  When  the  darkness  of  the  night  dyes  the 
darkness  of  fog  then  the  universal  blackness  is  so 
deep  that  you  might  think  the  solid  globe  had 
vanished,  and  that  you  hung  in  the  centre  of  space, 
death-dark  and  silent,  moonless  and  starless,  chaotic 
with  dumb  masses  of  the  deep  electric  dye. 

This  night  the  fancy  would  have  been  easily  in- 
spired by  the  hush  upon  the  sea,  for  the  sails  floated 
stirless ;  there  was  not  wind  enough  to  brush  the  salt 
curve  into  the  expiring  hiss  of  foam,  and  the  invisible 
swell  so  lightly  swayed  the  eclipsed  fabric  that  only 
now  and  again  did  you  catch  the  sad  note  of  the  sea, 
sobbing  along  the  bends,  and  hiddenly  passing  away 
into  the  short  wake  in  sighs  and  tones  of  weeping. 

"  Mr.  Candy !  "  called  the  captain. 

"  Sir !  "  came  the  answer  out  of  the  soft  invisibility 
in  which  the  bulwarks  abreast  were  buried. 

They  came  together  in  the  spokes  of  radiance 
about  the  skylight. 


ioo  «f>  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

"  Clew  up  all  three  royals  and  furl  them.  Let  go 
all  three  topgallant  halliards;  the  sails  may  hang. 
Haul  up  the  mainsail ;  brail  in  the  mizzen,  and  down 
flying  and  outer  jibs,  topmast  and  topgallant  stay- 
sails, but  leave  the  sails  unfurled.  See  that  your 
side-lights  are  burning  brightly,  and  bend  your 
sharpest  ear  over  the  water  for  a  noise.  Was  any- 
thing in  sight  before  this  smother  rolled  down  ?  " 

"  I  saw  nothing,  sir.  It  was  a  bit  thick  before  the 
fog  came  along,  and  then  it  came  in  a  wall." 

The  captain  went  to  the  side  to  look  over  and 
mark  the  ship's  pace,  and  the  second  mate  began 
to  sing  out.  One  watch  sufficed.  There  was  little 
to  do  but  let  go  with  the  drag  of  the  downhauls; 
and  the  clews  of  the  great  mainsail  rose  to  the  slings 
to  the  sound  of  a  few  ocean  yelps  and  a  "Chiliman  " 
chorus.  The  men  were  not  to  be  seen  until  they  ran 
up  against  you.  They  felt  for  the  ropes,  and  their 
footfalls  were  like  the  pattering  of  dead  leaves  on 
a  pavement  to  a  sudden  air  of  wind,  strangely 
threading  with  the  shore-going  sound  the  squeak  of 
the  sheave,  the  rasp  of  rope,  and  the  soft  scraping 
of  parrel  descending  the  greased  topgallant  heights. 
The  side-lights  were  reported  as  burning  bravely. 

The  ship  now  had  little  more  than  steerage  way, 
and  the  captain,  after  looking  into  the  compass,  and 
after  repeating  his  instructions  to  the  second  mate  to 
keep  his  best  ear  seawards  and  on  either  bow,  said 
he  would  send  the  dog  on  deck,  and  returned  to  the 
cabin. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE   SHIP'S   LOOKOUT 

CAPTAIN  LAYARD  entered  the  cabin  and  called  to 
the  dog,  which  instantly  sprang  up. 

"  Sailor,  go  on  deck  and  keep  a  lookout,"  said  he, 
and  in  a  breath  the  Newfoundland  rushed  up  the 
companion-steps  and  vanished. 

"  He  hasn't  had  his  supper  yet,  father,"  exclaimed 
the  little  boy. 

"  I  will  send  it  forward  to  him,"  answered  the 
captain,  seating  himself  in  the  chair  he  had  vacated, 
and  helping  himself  to  a  piece  of  chicken. 

Hardy  had  risen  when  Layard  entered,  but  seeing 
the  captain  sit  he  resumed  his  place.  His  watch 
would  come  round  at  eight  o'clock.  There  would 
be  little  time  for  sleep  if  he  withdrew  to  his  berth. 
He  had  supped  well,  had  drunk  a  glass  of  grog,  had 
enjoyed  his  chat  with  the  little  boy,  whose  charming 
face  and  sweet,  ingenuous,  yet  manly  prattle  de- 
lighted him;  he  was  comfortable,  and  the  captain 
inspired  no  feeling  of  restraint  nor  sense  of  intru- 
sion, so  he  sat  on. 

"  The  fog  is  as  thick  as  mud  in  a  wine-glass," 
exclaimed  Captain  Layard.  "  Some  go  fast  and 
some  go  slow  through  these  smothers.  The  fast 
man  holds  that  a  ship  is  under  more  immediate 

101 


IO2  «9»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$> 

control  when  travelling;  I  am  a  slow  man  when  I 
can't  see.  In  fact,"  he  continued,  with  a  look  of 
exaltation,  with  a  smile  of  profound  self-compla- 
cency, "  I  claim  to  know  my  business.  There  is  no 
man  afloat  who  is  going  to  teach  me  what  to  do 
when  a  thing  is  to  be  done,  and  done  properly." 

"  If  all  ships  would  heave  to,"  said  Hardy,  wit- 
nessing the  captain's  mind  in  the  expression  which 
subtly  interpreted  it,  "  then  it  would  be  the  right 
thing  in  a  fog  to  stop  your  engines,  or  back  your 
topsail.  But  it's  the  other  fellow  you  can't  see  that 
makes  the  fear."  He  immediately  added,  "  Your 
dog  is  extraordinarily  sagacious,  sir." 

"  It  amused  me  to  train  him,"  replied  the  captain, 
smoothing  Johnny's  little  hand  as  it  lay  upon  the 
table.  "  There  is  no  fog-horn  which  equals  the 
screams  of  an  irritated  sow.  A  sow  once  saved  me 
from  a  collision  by  causing  a  dog,  in  an  invisible 
ship  close  aboard  on  the  starboard  bow,  to  bark. 
That  put  the  idea  into  my  head.  Sailor  has  the 
voice  of  a  trombone,  and  he  didn't  need  much 
training  either ;  he  is  now  perched  between  the 
knight-heads  with  more  searching  eyes  and  clearer 
ears  than  the  whole  ship's  company  could  put  to^ 
gether  if  they  made  their  heads  into  one." 

Hardy  laughed. 

"  Don't  forget  Sailor's  supper,  father,"  said 
Johnny. 

"  I'll  not  forget,"  answered  the  captain. 

As  he  spoke  the  words  the  man  who  waited  on  the 
cabin  came  down  the  steps. 

"  Is  it  still  very  thick  ?  "  asked  the  captain. 

"  Blinding,  sir,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Get  the  dog's  supper,  and  take  it  to  him  on  the 


<+         The  Ship's  Lookout         «$»         103 

fok'sle,"  said  Captain  Layard.  "  See  that  he  has 
water ;  it  may  be  an  all-night  job  for  him.  Pearson 
was  a  very  humane  man,"  he  went  on,  addressing 
Hardy.  "  I  might  guess  that  by  the  medicine-chest 
he's  left  me.  I  overhauled  it  before  we  sailed,  and 
wondered  at  the  quantity  of  sleeping  and  death  stuffs 
it  contained.  I  found  out  that  in  one  of  his  passages 
home  from  Calcutta  several  men  died  of  cholera,  and 
he  was  at  his  wits'  ends  for  drugs.  Ships  bound  to 
India  should  always  carry  a  surgeon ;  they  would  — 
they  must,  if  there  are  passengers.  But  glauber  salts 
are  good  things  for  Jack  :  'tis  an  all-round  physic,  as 
good  for  smallpox  as  for  indigestion."  He  laughed 
somewhat  heartily,  and  continued,  "  Pearson's  men 
might  have  died  to  a  man,  for  his  medicine-chest 
showed  badly  like  the  end  of  a  long  voyage.  Fortu- 
nately half  of  them  took  it  into  their  heads  to  live, 
and  they  got  the  ship  home.  After  this  Pearson 
never  went  to  sea  without  plenty  of  drink  for  cholera. 
He's  left  some  doctor's  handbook  on  the  diseases  of 
sailors,  and  there's  a  volume  on  poisons  full  of  pencil 
marks.  His  humanity  was  unwearying,  but  he  got 
the  sack  all  the  same.  Johnny,  my  darling,  it's  time 
for  bed.  Come  along,  my  lamb." 

He  took  the  boy  by  the  hand,  and  they  went  into 
the  captain's  cabin,  the  child  crying  as  his  father 
opened  the  door,  "  Good  night,  Mr.  Hardy." 

It  was  half -past  seven ;  Hardy  went  into  his  berth 
to  smoke  a  pipe  before  relieving  the  deck.  The 
captain's  cabin  glowed  with  the  soft  illumination 
of  an  oil  lamp  screwed  to  a  bulkhead,  and  swinging 
in  its  bracket  to  the  heave.  It  was  a  fine  large  cabin, 
equipped  with  a  table  covered  with  green  baize  on 
which  were  writing  materials,  nautical  instruments, 


IO4  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «*» 

and  such  things ;  a  fore-and-aft  bunk  for  the  captain, 
and  a  brass  cot  at  the  foot  of  the  bunk,  safely  secured 
to  the  deck,  for  Johnny.  It  was  comfortable  with  a 
carpet,  chairs,  a  short  sofa,  a  chest  of  drawers,  and 
washstand.  Close  beside  Johnny's  cot  on  the  deck 
was  the 'boy's  drum. 

The  captain  began  to  undress  the  little  fellow,  who 
talked  to  him  of  Mr.  Hardy ;  he  said  he  wished  Mr. 
Hardy  could  sleep  with  them.  No  mother  ever  used 
a  tenderer  hand  in  putting  her  child  to  bed  than  did 
this  strange  sea-captain,  mad  or  not  mad.  His  eyes 
were  tender,  twice  he  kissed  the  boy's  fair  brow ;  he 
seemed  reluctant  to  make  an  end  of  this  undressing, 
as  though  he  loved  to  have  his  hands  upon  the  child, 
to  have  his  face  close  to  him. 

"  Now  your  prayers,  Johnny,"  said  he.  And  the 
boy  knelt  by  his  cot,  and  in  words  he  had  learnt 
from  his  father,  prayed  that  his  mother  would  look 
down  and  watch  over  them  both,  and  that  God  would 
bless  his  father  and  himself. 

The  captain  stood  by  in  devout  posture,  and  whis- 
pered the  words  which  the  child  uttered,  then  hoisted 
the  little  fellow  into  bed,  covered  him  up,  and  kissed 
him. 

"  Mayn't  Mr.  Hardy  come  and  see  me  in  bed  ?  " 
said  the  child. 

"  Ay,"  answered  the  captain,  and  he  stepped  to  the 
door,  and  called  the  chief  officer  by  name. 

Hardy  instantly  came  out,  leaving  his  pipe  behind 
him. 

"  Come  and  see  my  boy  in  bed,"  said  the  captain. 

Hardy,  not  knowing  that  this  was  due  to  the  child 
and  not  to  the  father,  was  secretly  astonished,  for 
though  he  had  always  lived  on  very  good  terms  with 


<+         The  Ship's  Lookout         «f»         105 

the  captains  he  had  sailed  with,  he  had  never  met 
any  commander  who  treated  him  just  as  though 
they  occupied  the  same  platform. 

He  followed  him  into  his  cabin,  and  the  boy  with 
his  bright  hair  on  the  pillow  smiled  a  greeting. 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  bed,  Johnny,"  said  the  mate, 
stepping  close  to  the  cot,  and  looking  at  him  with 
the  affection  which  such  a  child  as  this  will  excite 
in  a  sailor's  heart  at  sea,  moved  by  thoughts  of  home 
and  of  the  fair  land  he  has  left,  of  his  own  childhood 
perhaps,  and  visited  by  that  mute  sense  of  solitude, 
peril,  and  the  holy  and  brooding  presence  of  the 
Great  Spirit,  which  is  the  impulse  of  the  deep,  and 
understood  by  those  to  whom  the  ocean,  eternal  and 
boundless  in  the  constant  recession  of  its  horizon,  is 
an  interpretable  face.  He  turned  to  the  captain  and 
exclaimed : 

"  If  your  boy  ever  dreams,  sir,  it  is  of  the  angels 
who  guard  his  bed." 

He  kissed  the  little  chap,  and  was  going. 

"  A  moment,  Mr.  Hardy,"  exclaimed  the  captain, 
who  did  not  seem  to  have  caught  or  noticed  what  the 
mate  said.  "  This  is  an  example  of  old  Pearson's 
forethought  and  humanity." 

He  stepped,  followed  by  Hardy,  to  a  corner  of  the 
cabin,  in  which  stood  a  small  mahogany  chest,  and 
lifted  the  lid.  This  lid  was  furnished  with  scissors, 
syringes,  and  the  like,  and  the  contents  of  the  chest 
consisted  of  a  number  of  stoppered  green  bottles,  as 
well  as  sticking-plaster,  lint,  and  surgical  instru- 
ments. The  captain,  pointing  to  the  bottles  as  he 
spoke,  said: 

"  This  is  laudanum ;  this  is  labelled  morphia;  this 
is  atropine  for  the  ulcerated  eye ;  this  is  chlorodyne. 


io6  «•»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «t» 

Here  are  drugs  enough  to  start  a  man  as  a  chemist. 
This  is  a  book,"  said  he,  half  lifting  a  thin  volume 
from  a  pocket  and  letting  it  slip  back,  "  that  tells 
you  how  to  make  use  of  all  this  stuff;  ay,  even  the 
right  dose  of  Glauber's  salt  is  given." 

"  I  hope  there's  no  chance  of  Master  Johnny 
handling  those  bottles,  sir?"  said  the  mate,  who, 
though  he  gazed  with  curiosity  at  this  revelation 
of  the  open  lid,  was  not  inattentive  to  the  expression 
of  the  commander's  face,  which  was  one  of  supe- 
riority, as  though  he  had  appropriated  and  was 
triumphing  in  the  merits  of  the  kind  foresight  which 
were  certainly  not  his  but  Pearson's. 

"  You  will  never  look  into  this  chest,  Johnny  ?  " 
said  Hardy. 

"  His  mother  was  the  very  soul  of  honour,"  ex- 
claimed Captain  Layard,  "  and  that  child  cannot  but 
be  the  spirit  of  truth  and  honesty  itself." 

He  shut  the  lid  and  added,  "  Where,  I  wonder, 
does  the  human  soul  come  from  ?  The  father  cannot 
give  his,  or  a  portion  of  his,  to  the  child,  nor  can  the 
mother,  for  that  might  involve  the  forfeiture  of  their 
title  to  immortality.  The  great  poet  must  be  right; 
the  soul  which  informs  a  child,  which  spiritualises 
it  in  the  womb  and  at  its  birth,  must  come  from  God, 
who  is  its  Home.  What  a  wonderful  thought !  What 
a  revelation  it  has  been  to  me!  What  an  assurance 
and  promise!  " 

He  stood  gazing  steadfastly  at  Hardy,  who,  say- 
ing, a  little  uneasily,  "  These  are  matters  quite  be- 
yond me,  sir,"  again  made  for  the  door,  through 
which  he  passed  in  silence,  the  captain  standing  mo- 
tionless, his  hands  clasped  before  him,  and  his  eyes 
seeming  to  see  something  beyond  the  bulkhead, 
upon  which  he  had  fastened  them. 


«$»         The  Ship's  Lookout         «$>         107 

At  eight  o'clock  Hardy's  watch  came  round.  He 
went  on  deck  in  a  very  thoughtful  state,  and  the  deep 
dye  of  that  tremendous  void  of  black  vapour  was 
very  well  qualified  to  darken  his  mood  into  the  hue 
of  the  crow  —  a  bird  deemed  portentous  in  ancient 
seafaring.  He  stood  in  the  spokes  of  lamp-sheen 
about  the  skylight  and  called  to  Mr.  Candy,  who 
came  upon  him  suddenly  out  of  some  part  of  the 
deck  like  a  man  walking  through  a  glass  in  a  dark 
room.  He  exchanged  a  few  sentences  with  this  sec- 
ond mate,  but  they  wholly  concerned  the  business  of 
the  ship.  Candy  was  not  a  person  to  take  into 
one's  confidence ;  his  silver- white  lash  shaded  a  pale 
eye  that  marked  one  of  those  souls  which,  as  you 
cannot  make  up  your  mind  about  them,  you  resolve 
to  distrust ;  otherwise  Hardy,  in  defiance  of  all  law 
of  discipline,  and  even  of  sea-breeding,  would,  in 
the  humour  of  anxiety  that  then  possessed  him,  have 
been  glad  to  hear  Mr.  Candy's  opinion  of  the  com- 
mander. 

The  second  mate  went  below  to  bed  after  reporting 
that  he  had  visited  the  forecastle,  and  found  the 
Newfoundland  awake  and  vigilant,  also  that  two 
hands  paced  the  forward-deck  as  lookouts. 

The  air  of  wind  was  still  northwest;  it  breathed 
with  just  weight  enough  to  steady  the  topsails  and 
the  foresail.  As  the  ship  leaned  with  the  languid 
heave  of  the  sea,  the  sails  hanging  from  the  yards 
on  the  caps,  and  the  festooned  clews  of  the  invisible 
mainsail,  flapped  in  strokes  of  the  pinions  of  mam- 
moth birds  winging  betwixt  the  masts.  The  lap 
of  the  brine  against  the  bows,  which  were  slowly 
breaking  the  hidden  waters,  saddened  the  blindness 
of  the  night  with  a  note  of  supernatural  pain  and 


io8  <*>  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <+ 

grief.  The  ship  was  moving  slowly,  and,  as  before, 
nothing  of  her  was  distinguishable  but  the  dim  lustre 
smoking  in  hurrying  streams  and  wreaths  of  vapour 
about  the  skylight  and  about  the  binnacle-stand. 

It  was  damp,  depressing,  heart-subduing.  The 
philosophy  of  the  mariner,  which  is  one  of  endur- 
ance, and  of  that  species  of  submission  which  is 
attended  with  sea  blessings  and  the  profanities  of 
the  ocean-parlour,  breaks  down  in  the  fog.  Here 
is  the  helplessness,  here  is  the  sealed  eye,  the  spiriting 
of  groping  anxiety,  which  is  a  sort  of  anguish.  It  is 
not  his  ship  or  himself  that  he  fears;  the  emotions 
bred  by  fog  are  ahead  or  abeam,  and  it  need  not  be 
steam,  for  a  dirty  little  brig  or  schooner,  with  her 
half-dozen  of  a  crew  shouting  their  consternation 
under  the  foretopmast  stay,  has  been  known  to 
smite  and  sink  an  ocean  palace  full  of  light,  of 
superb  machinery,  of  saloon  tables  glowing  with 
fruit  and  plate,  and  populous  with  diners. 

The  deck  was  not  to  be  comfortably  measured 
in  a  quarter-deck  walk,  in  blackness  so  dense  that 
if  you  swerved  by  so  much  as  two  degrees  of  angle 
of  foot  you  thumped  your  breast  against  the  bul- 
warks. Hardy  laid  hold  of  the  wet  weather  vang  on 
the  quarter  and  fell  into  reflection,  for  loneliness 
breeds  thought,  and  no  man  is  more  lonely  than  the 
officer  of  the  watch  on  board  a  merchantman.  His 
mind  went  again  to  Julia  Armstrong,  but  it  had 
found  an  unsettling  fascination  in  Captain  Layard, 
and  it  quickly  returned  to  him.  He  could  not  doubt 
that  he  was  a  little  mad ;  his  ideas  were  strange,  yet 
his  speculations  showed  thought  and  culture.  He 
was  insane  to  one  to  whom  he  talked  freely,  but  to 
his  crew,  to  whom  he  would  not  and  did  not  talk,  he 


<+         The  Ship's  Lookout         «9»        109 

must  be  the  commonplace  "  old  man  "  of  the  quarter- 
deck, and  in  this  way  Hardy  feared  he  might  prove 
dangerous  even  to  tragedy. 

The  ship's  bell  was  hung  in  the  wake  of  the  galley, 
and  a  little  clock,  illuminated  by  a  bull's-eye  lamp, 
was  hung  up  under  a  penthouse  on  a  timber  erection 
just  before  it.  A  lookout  man  would  walk  to  the 
clock  to  see  the  time,  and  at  ten  he  struck  "  four 
bells,"  at  which  hour  it  was  as  black  and  thick  as 
ever  after  its  first  coming ;  the  light  breeze  blew,  and 
the  ship  swayed  softly  through  the  void. 

Hardy  made  his  way  forward  to  see  to  the  dog. 
He  struck  between  two  men  who  were  walking  the 
deck,  and  one  muttered,  "What  cheer?" 

"  By  God,  my  lads,"  said  Hardy,  "  you'll  not  find 
out  what  a  wolf's  had  for  dinner  by  squinting  down 
his  throat !  " 

There  was  a  faint  haze  about  the  forescuttle:  it 
came  up  into  the  inky  thickness  from  the  forecastle 
lamp.  It  was  a  slight  relief,  and  even  a  rest  for  the 
eye,  but  the  shadow  forward  was  deeper  than  it  was 
aft,  for  up  there  in  the  void  was  the  raven  thunder- 
cloud of  foresail  and  foretopsail,  and  further  for- 
ward yet,  like  ebon  waterspouts  soaring  from  sea  to 
topmast  head,  were  the  midnight  dyes  of  the  jib  and 
staysail. 

Hardy  found  the  night-lights  burning  brightly, 
and  going  toward  the  heel  of  the  bowsprit  he 
touched  the  Newfoundland  lookout  with  his  foot. 
He  patted  the  invisible,  shaggy  head,  and  passed  his 
arm  around  its  neck,  and  pressed  the  creature's  long 
wet  jaw  to  his  breast,  a  token  of  love  and  encour- 
agement which  the  dog  acknowledged  by  a  grunt  or 
two  of  happiness. 


no  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <& 

"  Keep  a  bright  lookout,  Sailor,"  said  Hardy, 
patting  the  shaggy,  invisible  head  again,  and  know- 
ing there  were  two  human  lookouts  somewhere 
about,  he  called,  and  they  answered  out  of  the  black 
blankness  to  leeward.  Well,  he  could  not  tell  them 
to  keep  their  eyes  skinned,  for  the  sight  of  man  and 
even  of  dog  lay  dead  upon  that  forecastle,  but  he 
directed  them  to  listen  with  all  their  might,  to  go 
often  to  the  head-rail  and  strain  their  ears,  and  they 
answered,  "  Ay,  ay,  sir." 

Very  plainly  on  this  forecastle  did  you  hear  the 
sulky  sob  of  the  sea  like  something  large  and  timid, 
gasping  to  the  rude  shock  of  the  stem.  The  ocean 
hissed  a  little  here  and  there,  but  the  light  wind 
could  not  give  life  enough  to  the  glance  of  the  curl 
of  sea  to  strike  through  it  to  the  eye,  even  though 
one  looked  straight  down  over  the  rail. 

Hardy  slowly  made  his  way  aft,  and  on  approach- 
ing the  binnacle  discerned  the  captain  standing  in 
the  faint  sheen  close  to  the  helmsman. 

"  I  never  remember  a  thicker  fog,"  said  the  cap- 
tain, and  he  asked  questions  about  the  lookout,  the 
dog,  and  the  side-lights.  Then  walking  out  of  the 
binnacle  haze  he  struck  the  bulwarks  almost  abreast, 
and  Hardy  followed  and  stood  alongside. 

"  Whenever  I  am  in  this  sort  of  thing,"  said 
Captain  Layard,  "  I  think  of  the  blind.  It  is  terrible 
to  wake  of  <a  bright  morning  to  the  eternal  darkness 
of  one's  life.  I  should  fear  the  presence  of  visions 
in  that  everlasting  gloom.  It  would  be  haunted  with 
phantoms,  and  as  thick-set  with  wild,  grotesque, 
horrible,  brassy  faces  as  the  human  eye  when 
morphia  closes  the  lid." 

"  My  father  is,  as  you  know,  sir,  a  doctor,"  said 


«$»         The  Ship's  Lookout         «0»        in 

Hardy,  "  and  I've  heard  him  speak  of  the  blind.  He 
declares  they  are  less  to  be  pitied  than  the  stone 
deaf."  The  captain  pshaw'd.  "  He  would  say," 
continued  Hardy,  "  contrast  the  faces  of  the  two 
afflictions.  They  both  force  the  mind's  eye  more 
deeply  inwards,  but  in  the  one  there  is  the  pain  of 
attention  ever  strained  and  a  baffled,  helpless  look, 
whilst  the  other  is  mild  and  restful  as  though  it  had 
found  peace  in  its  communes  with  God." 

"  Your  father  may  be  a  very  clever  man,"  said 
Captain  Layard,  "  but  I  have  no  faith  in  doctors. 
I  have  never  met  a  doctor  who  did  me  any  good, 
and  I  have  been  ill  in  my  time,  believe  me.  They 
let  my  wife  die." 

He  paused  as  if  in  some  passage  of  deep  emotion. 
In  this  interval  Hardy  thought  to  himself  what  an 
extraordinary  conversation  for  the  quarter-deck  of 
a  ship,  close  upon  midnight,  in  a  dense  fog! 

Some  hanging  fold  of  canvas  flapped  aloft.  In  a 
voice  as  changed  as  though  he  was  acting,  the 
captain  exclaimed  : 

"  That's  the  speech  of  a  sail  that  asks  to  be  furled. 
The  glass  is  high,  and  there's  no  foul  weather  any- 
where. If  the  breeze  freshens  by  ever  so  little,  or  if 
this  light  air  draws  ahead,  call  me,  sir." 

There  was  positive  refreshment  in  this  plain 
speech  of  the  sea  to  Hardy,  who  on  replying  to  the 
captain  found  that  he  had  gone,  and  in  the  steaming 
faintness  hovering  in  the  companion  just  caught  a 
sight  of  his  head  disappearing. 

Eleven  bells  had  been  struck,  and  Hardy  was 
beginning  to  think  that  it  would  be  eight  bells  soon, 
which  must  signify  shelter,  freedom  from  the  dwarf- 
ish drench  of  the  vapour,  as  fine  but  as  penetrating 


112  «*»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  ^» 

as  rain  in  Lilliput,  a  warm  blanket,  half  a  pipe,  and 
then  oblivion  for  an  off-shore  spell  of  nearly  four 
hours,  when  on  a  sudden  the  dog  barked.  The  tones 
were  deep  and  constant,  and  to  the  first  roll  of  those 
organ  notes  the  loose  wet  canvas  beat  the  masts  aloft 
in  a  sudden  heave  of  the  whole  fabric,  and  an  element 
of  alarm  and  even  of  fearful  expectation  entered  the 
black  void  and  thickened  it,  and  seemed  to  close  it 
round  about  till  the  smoking  colour  of  light  on  fore- 
castle and  quarter-deck  dimmed  into  the  preternat- 
ural faintness  of  the  salt  sea  glow  when  it  shudders  a 
fathom  deep  under  some  smooth  tropic  surface. 

The  dog  continued  to  bark,  and  there  was  an 
importunate  vehemence  in  his  notes,  a  bounding 
pulse  of  urgency  as  though  the  noble  creature  with 
instincts  superior  to  man's  knew  that  a  matter  of  life 
or  death  was  concerned  in  his  sentinel  bugling. 
Voices  sounded  forward,  you  heard  a  hurry  of  feet ; 
again  the  ship  leaned,  and  the  sails  smote  the  masts 
with  an  alarum  sound  of  metal ;  and  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  this  midnight  concert,  made  ghastly  by 
blackness,  by  the  overwhelming  blindness  of  fog  and 
by  the  presence  of  danger,  Hardy  rushed  forward, 
taking  his  chance  of  what  might  be  in  the  road. 

"  Jump  for  a  port-fire,  one  of  you,"  he  shouted, 
sending  his  cry  slap  into  a  very  web  of  seamen's 
growling  voices,  the  owners  of  which  were  no  more 
to  be  seen  than  the  ship's  keel.  "  What  is  it, 
Sailor?" 

And  now  he  was  alongside  the  dog,  and  with  his 
hand  on  its  head  felt  in  the  direction  of  the  creature's 
muzzle,  and  found  that  it  was  delivering  its  notes 
straight  away  over  the  head-rail,  about  two  points  on 
the  weather  bow. 


«f»         The  Ship's  Lookout         *9*        113 

"Wheel,  there!"  he  roared.  "Starboard  your 
helm.  Let  her  go  off  five  points." 

"  Starboard  it  is,  sir,"  came  back  the  answer. 

"  See  that  sheen  out  to  starboard  there,  sir?  "  rang 
out  a  voice  which  sounded  clear  through  the  barking 
of  the  dog. 

"  Hush !  Sailor.  Down,  sir.  Hush,  my  beauty," 
cried  Hardy,  and  the  dog  was  instantly  silent. 
"Hark!  now." 

A  sort  of  oozing  of  light,  dimly  scarlet,  wild  and 
weak  and  wet  as  some  ghostly  star  of  death  hovering 
over  a  grave,  was  visible  to  windward,  a  trifle  for- 
ward of  the  fore-rigging.  "  Hark!  "  cried  Hardy, 
and  sure  enough  amid  the  greasy  slopping  of  water, 
falling  lazily  from  the  thrust  of  the  ship's  bow,  they 
could  hear  a  distant  noise  of  shouting,  of  cries  re- 
echoed as  from  one  part  of  a  deck  to  the  other,  with 
a  deeper  threading  of  some  throat  hoarse  in  a  speak- 
ing-trumpet. 

"  Is  the  mate  forward?  "  sang  out  the  voice  of  the 
ship's  carpenter. 

"  Fire  one  right  away  off,"  shouted  Hardy,  know- 
ing what  the  fellow  had  got  and  meant. 

In  a  few  heart-beats  a  stream  of  sun-bright  fire 
was  pouring  like  water  from  a  hose  over  the  bow, 
but  its  lightning  illumination  touched  but  a  narrow 
stretch  of  the  dark  water.  The  foresail  turned  of 
a  sickly  yellow,  and  the  staysail  soared  wan  as  the 
wing  of  the  albatross  in  dying  moonlight.  All  above 
and  abaft,  and  then  forward  to  the  fly  ing- jib  boom 
end,  yards  and  sailcloth  lay  steeped  in  the  impene- 
trable smother,  and  within  the  area  of  the  light  the 
fog  drove  slowly  in  a  very  Milky  Way  of  silver 
crystals.  But  the  men  could  see  one  another,  and 


ii4  "9*  Tne  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

helped  by  the  light  Hardy  sped  aft  to  be  near  the 
wheel,  and  there  he  found  Captain  Layard. 

"  There's  a  ship  off  the  starboard  bow,  sir,"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"  They'll  never  see  that  port  fire,"  answered 
the  commander.  "  They're  burning  flares,  or  we 
shouldn't  see  her.  A  foreigner,  by  the  row.  How's 
she  heading?  " 

That  question  was  answered  even  as  he  asked  it 
by  the  revelation  of  a  ship.  It  had  the  suddenness 
of  a  magic-lantern  picture  flung  swiftly.  They  saw 
at  the  range  of  a  pistol  a  lurid  shape,  which  they 
easily  distinguished  as  a  barque  with  painted  ports, 
a  tall  poop,  and  a  tall  topgallant  forecastle.  She  was 
burning  flares  upon  her  main-deck  and  waist,  and 
the  red  flames,  winding  tongues  of  fire  into  feathers 
of  soot-black  smoke,  jewelled  the  whole  apparition 
with  red-hot  stars.  They  pierced  through  the  fog 
like  sunlit  rubies  from  glass  and  brass,  from  wet 
plank  and  mast,  and  the  grease  of  spars.  She  was 
so  close  that  she  shone  out  clearly,  and  made  light 
enough  for  the  people  of  the  Yerk  to  see  by.  Her 
helm  was  hard  up  and  she  was  slowly  paying  off, 
but  her  flying-jib  boom  must  catch  the  mizzen-rig- 
ging  of  the  Australian  clipper.  You  heard  the  splin- 
tering of  wood  aloft,  the  crash  of  nearer  timber, 
broken  off  carrot-like  betwixt  a  lazy  roll  of  both 
ships. 

The  barque's  decks  were  a  sight  for  the  gods. 
Figures  of  men  could  be  seen  rushing  frantically 
here  and  there.  They  were  all  shouting;  men  on 
the  poop  were  screeching  orders,  and  nothing  but  the 
helm  gave  heed ;  men  on  the  forecastle  were  roaring 
and  flourishing  their  fists.  The  flames  duplicated 


<&>         The  Ship's  Lookout         «$»         115 

the  shadows  of  the  running  figures;  painted  lines 
of  the  rigging  upon  the  planks  writhed  between  the 
water-ways,  like  serpents  snaking  their  attenuated 
lengths  overboard.  Never  did  any  sea  light  flash  up 
a  more  startling,  a  wilder,  a  more  ghastly  tapestry. 
'Twas  like  a  painting  in  flames  and  ruddy  stars  upon 
the  black  canvas  of  the  fog,  and  the  hull,  with  its 
lines  of  ports  like  the  keys  of  a  piano,  reeled  slowly 
off  on  the  lift  of  the  brine,  yard-arm  to  yard-arm, 
the  beating  canves  of  each  red  as  the  powder  flag, 
and  dying  out  up  aloft  like  the  reflection  of  a  burn- 
ing ship  upon  a  cloud. 

It  was  all  too  breathless  for  action  aboard  the 
York.  Before  a  brace  could  be  let  go,  before  an 
order  could  be  yelled,  the  stranger's  flying- jib  boom 
was  crackling  and  gone,  and  her  topgallantmast, 
with  its  canvas,  was  plastering  the  topsail ;  and  then 
it  was  almost  channel  to  channel,  and  the  barque's 
poop  was  abreast  of  the  York's  quarter-deck. 

"  Great  God !  "  cried  Hardy. 

A  figure  standing  near  the  stranger's  mizzen- 
rigging  fell,  and  another  figure  fled  aft,  but  at  that 
instant  some  back  draught  of  breeze  thickened  the 
crystals  of  the  fog  smoking  close  to  the  stranger's 
taffrail  with  a  dense  feathering  of  the  black  stench 
from  the  flares;  the  burning  picture  vanished  out 
astern,  as  though  to  the  fall  of  a  curtain  of  midnight 
hue,  the  sounds  of  shouting  sank,  and  in  the  hush 
that  fell  upon  the  York's  deck,  nothing  was  to  be 
heard  but  the  dreary  lamentations  of  broken  water 
under  the  bows,  and  the  weeping  noise  of  eddies 
under  the  counter. 

"  A  close  shave !  "  said  Captain  Layard,  fetching 
a  deep  breath.  "  She  has  not  hurt  us,  I  think." 


n6  <&>  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <f» 

"  I  saw  a  man  fall  as  if  stabbed,"  said  Hardy. 

"  Back  the  topsail !  I'll  keep  the  ship  hove  to  till 
we  can  see,"  exclaimed  the  captain,  whose  attention, 
concentrated  by  the  sudden  blackness  into  which  the 
ship  had  floated,  was  wholly  in  the  manoeuvre  he  had 
commanded. 

The  order  was  sung  out,  the  sailors  came  groping 
their  way  aft  to  the  main-braces,  the  yards  were 
swung,  and  the  ship  was  brought  to  a  stand,  lightly 
rolling  her  masts  with  a  slap  of  hidden  pinion,  which 
made  you  think  of  some  gigantic  navy  signal-man 
waving  flags. 

"  My  noble  dog  has  saved  my  ship,"  exclaimed 
the  captain.  "  I  am  a  remarkable  man !  "  And,  to 
use  a  Paddyism,  Hardy  could  hear  in  the  skipper's 
speech  the  expression  of  exaltation  which  his  face 
did  undoubtedly  wear.  The  skipper  whistled,  and 
in  a  few  moments  felt  the  snout  of  the  fine  black 
creature  pressing  lovingly  against  his  thigh. 

"  Come  along  below,"  said  he,  passing  his  hand 
caressingly  along  the  invisible  feathers  of  the  dog's 
back,  "  till  I  dry  you  and  see  how  you  look,  and 
we'll  take  a  peep  at  Johnny."  And  he  and  the 
dog  vanished. 

Just  at  that  moment  eight  bells  were  struck.  It 
was  midnight,  and  the  starboard  watch  must  tend 
the  ship  till  four.  Whilst  the  last  chimes  were 
trembling  into  the  damp,  depressing,  flapping 
sounds  which  clothed  the  obscured  heights,  the  chief 
mate  was  hailed  by  a  man  whose  voice  proceeded 
from  abreast  of  the  gangway.  Hardy  stepped  to 
the  companion  where  the  sheen  lay,  and  exclaimed, 
"  I  am  here."  At  the  same  moment  Mr.  Candy 
came  out  of  the  companion  and  joined  him.  Before 


«t»         The  Ship's  Lookout         «t»        117 

one  could  address  the  other,  three  figures  entered 
the  space  of  faint  saturated  light. 

"  Here's  a  man,"  said  one  of  them,  "  that's 
jumped  aboard  us  off  the  barque.  He  come  up  to  me 
and  asked  to  see  the  capt'n." 

"  Which  is  the  man?  "  said  Hardy,  straining  his 
sight. 

One  of  them  said,  "  I  am,  mister.  I  am  French." 
And  then  in  French  he  asked  if  Hardy  spoke  that 
tongue. 

"  No,"  answered  Hardy.  "  Come  below  into  the 
cabin  to  the  captain." 

And  after  a  few  words  with  Mr.  Candy,  who 
heard  now  for  the  first  time  that  they  had  nearly 
been  run  into  by  a  tall  French  barque,  he  went 
down  the  cabin  steps,  followed  by  the  Frenchman. 

In  this  interior  plenty  of  light  was  shining,  and 
it  was  as  noontide  after  the  midnight  of  the  deck. 
The  captain  was  near  the  table  drying  the  dog  with 
a  cloth,  and  talking  to  him,  and  praising  him  as 
though  he  were  a  man,  and  the  creature's  mild  and 
benevolent  eyes  looked  up  into  his  face,  and  you  read 
gratitude  and  affection  in  the  noble  brute. 

"Who's  that?"  said  the  captain,  throwing  the 
cloth  down,  and  looking  with  a  knitted  brow  at  the 
Frenchman. 

"  He  will  explain,  sir,"  Hardy  answered. 

"  Softly,"  exclaimed  the  captain,  "  an  angel  lies 
asleep  in  that  cabin,"  and  with  a  melodramatic 
flourish  of  his  arm,  he  pointed  to  the  door  of  his 
berth. 

The  Frenchman  looked  at  Hardy.  He  was  a  man 
of  middle  height,  in  a  drill  or  thin  canvas  blouse, 
over  which  was  Buttoned  at  the  throat  a  rough,  old 


n8  +>  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <*> 

jacket,  the  sleeves  hanging  loose.  He  wore  blue 
trousers  patched  with  black,  stuffed  into  half-boots 
bronzed  by  wear  and  brine.  His  black  hair  curled 
upon  his  shoulders,  and  he  held  a  cap  fashioned  out 
of  some  sort  of  skin.  His  face  was  a  ghastly  yellow ; 
his  lips  a  vivid  red ;  his  nose  long,  lean,  and  humped, 
and  the  black  pupils  of  his  eyes  sparkled  in  the 
flashes  of  the  swinging  lamp  amid  their  whites, 
which,  by  the  way,  were  crimson  with  drink  or  gout, 
or  both.  It  was  a  face  to  peer  at  you,  malevolently, 
from  a  time-darkened  canvas,  very  picturesque,  very 
romantic,  but  something  that  you  would  not  like  to 
think  was  treading  behind  you  on  a  lonely  road. 

"Who  are  you?"  said  the  captain,  putting  his 
hand  upon  the  head  of  the  dog,  in  whose  body  a 
sort  of  rolling  noise  might  have  been  heard,  not 
quite  a  growl,  but  a  note  as  of  suspicion  grumbling 
deep  down  below  the  throat. 

"  You  speak  French,  I  hope,  sar?  "  said  the  man. 

"  And  you  speak  English !  "  responded  the  cap- 
tain, with  a  side  look  and  a  grin  at  Hardy.  "  It's 
no  business  of  yours  whether  I  speak  French  or 
not.  Start  your  yarn." 

And  the  man,  clearly  understanding  what  was 
r'aid,  began. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE    FRENCH    MATE 

I  HAVE  said  that  the  man,  clearly  understanding 
the  captain's  meaning,  began ;  but  it  was  not  a  be- 
ginning, nor  a  middle,  nor  an  end,  that  could  be  set 
down  in  black  and  white  in  that  Frenchman's 
speech.  It  was  most  barbarous  English,  yet  in- 
telligible when  helped  along  by  the  captain's  and 
Hardy's  questions.  It  must  be  given  in  plain  words 
to  be  readable,  and  thus  spoke  that  sinister-looking 
man: 

"  My  name  is  Pierre  Renaud.  I  am  chief  mate  of 
the  barque  that  was  just  now  nearly  running  into 
you.  We  are  from  Cape  Town  to  Bordeaux.  That 
dog  threatens  my  throat." 

The  man  flashed  the  poniards  of  his  eyes  at  the 
Newfoundland,  who  was  like  an  organ  with  one  key 
going,  trembling  in  its  shaggy  and  splendid  bulk 
with  a  low,  sulky,  dangerous  growling. 

"  Down ! "  said  the  captain,  and  the  animal 
stretched  its  fore  legs.  "  What  brings  you  aboard 
us?" 

"  Fear,"  replied  the  man,  with  a  slight  shrug  and 
a  look  of  arching  eyebrow  at  his  questioner,  and  a 
roll  of  the  eye  over  him,  as  though  he  saw  something 
singular  in  his  face  and  manner.  "  A  man  loves  his 

119 


120  <•»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «*» 

life  and  will  jump  to  save  it.  I  thought  we  should 
crush  our  bows  in  and  founder." 

"  You  did  not  stay  to  help  your  captain  and  en- 
courage the  men  to  preserve  your  ship,"  said  Cap- 
tain Layard,  dabbing  the  dog's  head  to  keep  him 
quiet. 

"  The  captain  fell  dead  in  a  fright,"  responded 
the  Frenchman,  with  another  shrug,  "  and  I  chose 
to  save  myself." 

"  I  saw  a  man  fall,"  exclaimed  Hardy.  "  Was 
that  you  that  rushed  along  the  poop  ?  " 

"How  can  I  answer  you?"  replied  the  French- 
man. "  We  were  all  rushing." 

"  The  captain  fell  dead !  "  said  Captain  Layard, 
in  a  musing  way.  "  It's  evident  that  French  sea- 
captains  die  easily.  When  did  you  strike  this  fog  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  precisely.  Some  hours  since,"  was 
the  reply.  "  When  we  heard  the  barking  of  a  dog 
we  knew  that  a  ship  was  near,  and  we  judged  by  the 
barking  that  she  was  approaching.  We  lighted  fires 
upon  the  decks,  and  when  the  glare  gave  us  a  sight 
of  you  the  sailors  lost  their  senses,  and  ran  about 
shouting  and  screeching.  They  were  too  mad  to 
obey  orders.  The  captain  fell  as  I  ran  past  him, 
his  hands  clasped  upon  his  heart,  and  as  he  had  all 
along  complained  of  the  weakness  of  that  organ,  I 
am  certain  he  died  of  disease." 

"  Your  countrymen  are  not  good  sailors,"  said 
Captain  Layard. 

The  Frenchman  grinned  ghastly,  and  Sailor 
rumbled  afresh  with  a  stiffening  of  his  level  fore 
legs  as  though  he  must  rise. 

"  If  I  had  been  your  captain,"  continued  Lay- 
ard, "  I  should  have  saved  my  fly  ing- jib  boom  and 


«^»         The  French  Mate         <+  ill 

topgallantmast,  and  my  sailors  would  not  have 
rushed  about  and  torn  their  throats  open  with  the 
shrieks  of  fear  —  that  womanly  spirit !  " 

His  smile  was  lofty,  his  self-complacency  inex- 
pressible, you  guessed  if  there  had  been  a  mirror 
at  hand  he  would  have  admired  himself  in  it. 

His  talk,  but  not  his  face,  was  past  the  French- 
man's comprehension.  He  rolled  his  eyes  upon 
Hardy,  then  upon  a  decanter  half-full  of  rum,  stand- 
ing upon  a  swinging  tray,  timing  the  pulse  of  the 
sea. 

"  He  asks  for  a  drink,  sir,"  said  Hardy. 

"  Give  him  a  tot,"  replied  Captain  Layard,  "  then 
let  the  second  mate  tell  the  bo'sun  to  find  him  a 
hole  to  lie  down  in.  I  don't  like  his  looks." 

He  walked  abruptly  to  his  berth,  followed  by  the 
dog,  but  before  he  entered  he  turned  to  the  animal 
and  exclaimed,  "  On  deck,  Sailor,  and  keep  a  look- 
out till  the  smother  thins,"  and  the  Newfoundland 
sprang  up  the  steps. 

The  Frenchman,  with  a  smile  at  Hardy,  touched 
his  brow.  The  mate,  without  noticing  the  fellow's 
gesture,  took  the  decanter  of  rum  from  the  swing 
tray  and  gave  him  a  glass  of  grog.  As  he  handed 
the  tumbler  to  the  man,  he  said : 

"  Was  your  captain  the  man  who  stood  near  the 
mizzen-rigging  ?  " 

The  Frenchman  took  a  long  pull  at  the  glass 
before  answering,  and  then  said,  "  Yes." 

"  Do  you  think  he  fell  dead,  or  was  he  struck 
down?"  said  Hardy,  looking  critically  at  the  wild 
and  dangerous  face,  whose  eyes  stared  into  the 
Englishman's  vision  with  the  fixity  of  a  buried 
bayonet. 


122  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

"  He  fell  dead,"  was  the  answer,  and  down  went 
the  remainder  of  the  grog. 

"  I  believe  I  saw  a  man  rush  from  him  aft  when 
he  fell,"  said  Hardy. 

An  expression  of  anger  deepened  the  ugly  devil's 
look  of  malevolence,  but  he  held  his  peace. 

"  Your  captain  is  dead  and  you  are  here,"  said 
Hardy.  "  Your  second  mate  will  take  charge  of  the 
barque,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Our  second  mate  was  drowned  a  week  after  we 
left  the  Cape,"  answered  the  Frenchman. 

"  What  will  the  crew  do?  " 

"They  will  go  to  hell!" 

"  Follow  me,"  said  Hardy,  and  they  climbed  the 
companion-steps . 

The  wind  was  sleeping.  It  was  now  a  dead  calm, 
and  the  fog  steeped  in  night  was  lifting  into  the 
sight  —  conquering  blackness  off  an  ocean  that 
seemed  to  be  boiling  upon  some  furnace  of  earth 
miles  deep.  Damp  draughts  of  air  blew  with  the 
rolling  of  the  ship,  and  the  canvas  beat  out  hollow 
notes  like  the  blasts  of  guns  heard  underground. 
The  chief  mate  called  the  name  of  Mr.  Candy,  who 
stepped  out  of  the  impenetrable  profound  of  the 
quarter. 

"  This  man,"  said  Hardy,  talking  in  the  skylight 
sheen,  "  is  mate  of  the  barque  we  were  foul  of 
just  now.  Take  him  forward  to  the  bo 'sun  and  find 
him  a  bed  anywhere,  and  food  if  he  needs  it." 

"  I  don't  need  it,"  said  the  Frenchman. 

"  Come  along,"  said  Mr.  Candy,  and  they  dis- 
appeared. 

Hardy  paused  to  listen  and  peer.  There  was 
nothing  to  see,  but  he  might  have  heard  a  sound  of 


«$»         The  French  Mate         «$»  123 

weeping  all  about,  as  though  old  ocean  was  mourn- 
ing over  its  blindness.  He  then  went  to  bed,  but 
not  to  sleep  right  away.  The  Frenchman's  insolent 
touching  of  his  brow  had  accentuated  his  own  deep 
suspicion  of  the  captain's  sanity,  and  very  grave, 
though  perplexed,  reflection  attended  his  thoughts 
of  Layard,  and  the  tragically  perilous  situation  of 
the  ship  in  charge  of  a  lunatic  so  subtly  mad  that 
no  one  but  his  chief  officer  might  have  understand- 
ing enough  to  see  how  it  was  with  him. 

At  eight  bells  in  the  middle  watch  he  was  aroused 
by  Mr.  Candy,  and  was  on  deck  in  a  minute  or  two, 
for  he  was  a  smart  man  all  around ;  the  first  at  the 
yard-arm  in  reefing  when  his  duties  had  carried  him 
there,  the  first  to  spring  to  the  cry,  no  matter  the 
command,  swift  in  relief,  and  for  ever  on  the  alert 
whilst  the  responsibility  of  life,  cargo,  and  fabric 
was  his.  The  fog  was  still  very  thick,  but  a  thin 
wind  had  sprung  up  out  of  the  east,  and  the  stream- 
ing of  the  waters  was  like  the  shaling  of  a  summer 
tide  upon  shingle.  The  braces  had  been  manned 
when  this  weak  air  came,  and  the  yards  swung  to 
hold  the  maintopsail  aback;  the  ship  rolled  gently 
under  the  arrest  of  her  canvas,  and  there  was  noth- 
ing to  see  and  nothing  to  do  but  let  the  fog  soak  into 
the  spirits. 

"  A  spare  bunk  in  the  forecastle  has  been  found 
for  the  French  mate,"  Candy  had  said.  The  fellow 
had  grumbled,  muttered  that  he  had  been  an  officer 
on  board  his  own  vessel,  and  deserved  better  usage. 
Candy  said  he  was  lucky  to  save  his  life,  and  to 
find  a  bed  in  a  British  forecastle.  The  French- 
man growled  that  he  considered  himself  important 
enough  to  sleep  in  the  cabin.  . 


124  <&  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

"  What  did  you  say  to  that  ?  "  Hardy  had  asked. 

"  I  said,  '  You  be  damned ! '  "  Candy  replied. 

Not  until  five  bells,  half-past  six,  in  Hardy's  watch 
did  the  fog  show  signs  of  breaking  up.  It  thinned 
in  places,  and  presently  through  the  stretching  ceil- 
ing of  it  the  cold,  pale  dawn  looked  down  upon 
the  sea,  and  made  it  piebald  with  granite-coloured 
spaces.  The  breeze  then  freshened  and  the  fog 
began  to  fly.  Columns  of  it  moved  away  stately 
like  pillars  of  sand  on  the  desert ;  it  swept  in  Titan 
cobwebs  between  the  masts ;  it  sped  like  silken  veils 
streaming  from  viewless  fleeting  spirits  over  the 
trucks.  Wide  vistas  opened  to  windward;  large 
blue  eyes,  soft  with  the  moistness  of  their  light, 
floated  upon  the  trembling  eastern  brine.  The  sun 
darted  a  pale  yellow  lance,  and  as  the  captain  put 
his  head  through  the  companion-hatch  the  scene 
of  deep,  saving  a  blankness  in  the  west,  opened 
around,  and  it  was  a  shining  morning  with  a  bright 
sun  and  a  blue  sea  and  an  azure  sky  and  a  pleasant 
breeze  of  wind. 

Scarcely  had  the  captain's  head  shown  when 
Hardy,  looking  seawards  over  the  quarter,  ex- 
claimed : 

"  There's  the  barque  that  fouled  us  last  night,  sir. 
She's  got  a  wift  at  her  mizzen-peak." 

She  could  be  no  other  vessel  than  the  barque ;  the 
morning  light  was  strong  and  she  lay  within  a  mile, 
and  you  could  see  that  she  had  lost  her  fore- 
topgallantmast  and  jib-booms.  Her  maintopsail 
was  aback ;  she  had  clearly  hove  to  after  losing  her 
mate  and  splintering  clear  of  the  ship  and  the 
smother.  Her  backed  topsail  curved  inwards  like 
carved  ivory,  her  ruddy  sheathing  flashed  its  wet 


«$»         The  French  Mate         «f»  125 

length  to  the  sun  as  the  heave  rolled  her  light,  tall 
shape,  with  its  slanting  stare  of  black  ports,  upon  the 
wide  white  line  that  girdled  her. 

"  Why  is  she  flying  that  gamp?  "  said  the  captain, 
taking  a  telescope  out  of  the  companionway ;  but 
before  he  levelled  it  at  the  ship  he  sent  a  glance  full 
of  scrutiny  aloft  to  gather  if  his  vessel  had  been  hurt 
in  the  night,  which  was  distinctly  professional  and 
sane,  and  quite  enough  to  have  convinced  the  Jacks 
that  the  "  old  man  "  knew  the  time  of  day,  even  if 
they  suspected  that  the  compass  of  his  mind  was 
wrong  by  points. 

The  gamp,  as  he  termed  the  wift,  consisted  of  the 
French  flag  stopped  in  the  middle,  that  is,  bound 
by  a  rope  yarn  into  the  appearance  of  a  gamp 
umbrella.  It  tumbled  at  its  block,  and  was  a 
syllable  of  sea  talk  signifying  "  help !  "  The  skipper 
whistled  to  his  dog,  which  had  kept  a  brave  lookout 
throughout  the  night  without  relief,  and  which, 
seated  on  the  heel  of  the  starboard  cathead,  seemed 
to  be  listening  with  a  grave  countenance  to  the  re- 
marks of  an  ordinary  seaman  who  was  addressing 
him.  The  beautiful  and  dutiful  creature  came 
bounding  aft  and  pawed  his  master  to  the  shirt- 
front,  rising  nearly  his  height. 

"  You  had  better  lower  a  boat  and  go  and  see 
what  that  fellow  wants,"  said  the  captain,  and  he 
motioned  the  dog  into  the  cabin  and  told  it  to  wait 
there  for  breakfast. 

"  They're  lowering  a  boat,  and  mean  to  come 
aboard  of  us,"  exclaimed  Hardy,  whose  eyes  were 
on  the  barque. 

A  boat  dropped  awkwardly  from  the  vessel's  tall 
side,  and  in  a  minute  or  two  the  gold  of  brandished 


126  *$>  The   Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «9» 

oars  sparkled  upon  the  delicate  feathering  of  the 
water.  The  men  were  washing  down  aboard  the 
York.  In  those  days  they  carried  a  head  pump 
which  they  rigged,  and  the  bright  water  was  passed 
in  buckets  and  sluiced  over  the  planks,  the  boatswain 
standing  by  and  giving  the  scrubbers  heart  by  his 
inspiriting  cries,  roars,  and  oaths.  It  was  a  common 
scene  of  shipboard  life,  full  of  colour,  movement, 
and  business. 

Hardy  looked  along  the  decks  for  the  French 
mate,  but  did  not  see  him. 

The  captain  exclaimed,  "  We'll  send  the  fellow 
aboard  in  his  boat.  A  good  riddance.  How  some 
faces  damn  the  souls  which  animate  them!  You 
seldom  err  in  judging  of  a  man  by  his  looks.  The 
expression  is  formed  by  the  character.  But  affliction 
may  deceive  you,  I  allow ;  a  harelip,  for  example,  or 
a  cock-eye." 

"  Shall  I  pass  the  word  for  the  Frenchman,  sir?  " 
said  Hardy. 

"  Oh,  yes !  oh,  yes,  rout  him  out  of  it !  "  answered 
the  captain,  smiling  with  that  air  of  superiority 
which  would  have  convicted  him  in  the  eyes  of  a 
keeper. 

The  word  was  passed,  and  the  Frenchman,  with 
the  aspect  of  a  pirate  in  a  boy's  book,  rose  through 
the  scuttle  as  the  boat  came  alongside.  The  man 
who  had  steered  her  scrambled  into  the  mizzen- 
chains  and  sprang  on  to  the  quarter-deck  with  a 
salute  of  French  courtesy.  He  was  close-shaven  and 
dark,  habited  in  loose  blue  breeches  and  a  jumper, 
and  looked  a  good  sailor  spite  his  nationality,  that 
was  as  marked  in  gesture  and  bearing  as  though 
branded  on  his  brow. 


«$»         The  French  Mate         «$»  127 

"  Can  I  speak  to  the  captain?  "  said  he,  looking 
from  Hardy  to  the  skipper.  His  broken  English 
was  good. 

"  Glad  you  speak  my  tongue,"  said  the  captain. 
"What  do  you  want?" 

"  I  have  served  in  American  ships  and  can  speak 
English,"  answered  the  man.  "  I  am  brother  of  the 
captain  of  that  barque.  He  was  stabbed  last  night 
and  is  dead.  Our  second  mate,  too,  is  dead.  The 
first  mate  is  missing.  I'll  swear  he  killed  my  poor 
brother,  and  then  drowned  himself.  We  are  with- 
out a  navigator.  What  are  we  to  do?  " 

"  You  shall  have  a  navigator,"  exclaimed  Captain 
Layard,  and  he  looked  toward  the  forecastle,  but 
the  Frenchman  had  disappeared. 

The  man  bowed  and  said,  "  It  was  a  cold-blooded 
assassination.  They  had  been  quarrelling  all  the 
voyage.  The  villain  chose  the  right  moment,  and 
the  sea  is  easier  than  the  guillotine." 

"  I  saw  your  captain  fall,"  said  Hardy,  "  and  the 
man  that  killed  him  is  aboard  us." 

The  fellow  started,  and  so  did  his  eyeballs  in  their 
sockets  as  he  flashed  them  eagerly  and  fiercely  along 
the  decks  where  the  sailors  were  scrubbing,  and 
the  boatswain  encouraging  them  with  the  pleasant 
promptings  of  the  British  forecastle :  "  Scrub  it  out 
of  'em,  my  lads.  D'ye  want  to  drown  the  ship, 
you  sojer?  Slap  it  along  the  lee-coaming  and  be 
damned  to  you,  Dick!  Ain't  it  as  thick  as  yer 
eyebrows  there?  Hurry  up,  hurry  up  with  them 
buckets.  Are  we  a  hexcavator  with  the  steam 
turned  off?" 

"  A  hand  fetch  that  Frenchman  out  of  the  fok'sle 
and  bring  him  aft,"  shouted  Hardy. 


128  ^»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <+ 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  do  with  him?  "  asked  the 
captain. 

"  I  will  call  the  crew  together  and  consider,"  an- 
swered the  man  with  a  hideously  significant  glance 
at  the  main  yard-arm. 

"  If  you  hang  him,"  said  the  captain,  "  who'll 
navigate  you?  " 

The  fellow  folded  his  arms  tightly  upon  his 
breast  and  sank  his  head,  sending  a  level  look  of 
patient  hate  through  his  eyelashes  toward  the  fore- 
castle. 

"  What's  your  rating  aboard  your  ship?"  inquired 
the  captain. 

"  Boatswain,  sir,"  was  the  answer,  and  the  man 
did  not  turn  his  head  to  say  it. 

The  dog  at  this  moment  came  out  of  the  cabin 
and  stood  with  his  fore  feet  on  the  plank  at  the 
coaming,  staring  at  his  master.  He  seemed  to 
plead.  The  human  spirit  could  not  be  more  eloquent 
in  the  gaze;  but  the  captain  did  not  heed  him,  for 
just  then  the  man  who  had  been  sent  to  fetch  the 
Frenchman  was  coming  aft,  shoulder  to  shoulder 
with  the  Frenchman  himself.  The  men  forgot  to 
scrub;  the  head  pump  ceased  to  gush;  the  boat- 
swain left  off  conjuring  and  damning.  All  eyes 
were  turned  aft.  The  silence  of  a  moment  fell  upon 
the  ship,  and  nothing  broke  it  but  the  low  growling 
of  the  Newfoundland. 

The  Frenchman,  fresh  from  the  forecastle,  was 
ghastly  pale;  his  walk  was  defiant;  when  abreast 
of  the  main-hatchway  he  came  more  quickly  than 
his  companion,  who  stopped.  He  walked  up  close 
to  the  boatswain  of  the  barque  and  said,  in  his 
native  tongue: 


«f»         The  French  Mate         «f»  129 

"  Well !  "  ' 

The  other  dropped  his  arms;  his  hands  were 
clenched,  his  eyes  charged  with  that  deadly  cold  light 
of  hate  which  is  more  dangerous  and  fearful  than 
the  flame  of  fury.  He  spoke  slowly  in  French,  and 
what  he  said  was  this : 

"  You  did  not  drown  yourself,  I  see,  after  assas- 
sinating my  brother." 

"  You  lie  in  your  throat !  I  sprang  to  save  my 
life.  Your  brother  is  a  live  man  for  me." 

"  Liar,  and  villain,  and  execrable  coward !  " 

He  stepped  to  the  rail  and  said  to  the  men,  in 
French  of  course  —  but  you  shall  be  told  what  he 
said: 

"  The  assassin  is  in  this  ship.  He  pretends  that 
he  sprang  for  his  life;  he  killed  my  brother,  our 
navigator,  and  would  have  consigned  us,  helpless, 
to  the  desolation  of  the  sea." 

He  returned,  and  was  followed  by  a  howl  of 
passion  from  the  boat  alongside. 

All  in  a  minute,  and  just  as  the  man  was  posting 
himself  again  in  dramatic  attitude  close  to  the  mur- 
derer, the  huge  Newfoundland,  with  an  indescribable 
roar  of  rage,  sprang  with  the  whole  weight  of  his 
body  upon  the  French  mate,  and  bore  him  to  the 
deck  with  a  thump  of  lead,  like  the  fall  of  a  twelve- 
pounder  ball,  and  they  thought  that  the  brute's  teeth 
hacl  met  in  the  wretch's  throat.  Hardy  and  the 
captain  made  a  rush  and  dragged  the  animal  off  the 
fallen  man,  and  the  captain,  grasping  the  creature  by 
the  coat  of  his  neck,  hauled  him,  growling  fiercely, 
to  the  companion,  and  drove  him  below. 

The  man  rose;  his  nose  was  bleeding,  and  after 
he  had  run  the  length  of  his  sleeve  along  it  his  face 


130  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

looked  like  a  decapitated  head  placed  on  the  upright 
body  it  had  been  struck  from. 

"I  want  to  swing  my  yards,"  said  Captain  Layard. 
"  I've  been  hove  to  all  night  through  you.  Take 
that  man  away;  I  don't  parley- vous  myself, 
and  don't  follow  your  talk.  He'll  navigate  you 
home ;  he  looks  a  good  navigator."  And  he  smiled 
with  some  sense  of  superiority  of  meaning,  which 
made  his  face  fitter  for  comedy  than  for  the  tragedy 
of  this  passage. 

The  French  boatswain  swept  his  hand  with  an 
infuriate  motion  toward  the  rail. 

"  If  I  go  with  this  man  he  will  kill  me,"  said  the 
blood-stained  French  mate. 

"  Not  he.  The  ship  wants  a  navigator,"  replied 
Captain  Layard,  with  a  cheerfulness  supremely  in- 
consequential. 

"  If  you  do  not  come,"  said  the  French  boatswain, 
in  his  native  speech,  "  I  will  call  the  men  up,  and 
they  will  throw  you  into  the  boat." 

"  Why  can't  you  speak  in  English?  "  said  Captain 
Layard.  "  He'll  understand  you,  and  we  can  follow 
your  meaning." 

The  French  mate  turned  on  his  heel  and  was  be- 
ginning to  walk  slowly  forward.  As  a  cat  springs 
when  started  by  a  dog,  so  sprang  the  barque's  boat- 
swain upon  his  brother's  murderer.  With  the 
strength  of  the  fiends  before  they  were  cast  out  he 
rushed  the  bleeding  scoundrel  to  the  rail  and  yelled 
to  his  men.  The  French  mate  grasped  the  mizzen- 
shrouds  and  struggled  and  kicked  in  awful  silence; 
but  in  less  than  a  minute  three  stout  sailors,  out  of 
the  four  who  manned  the  boat's  oars,  swarmed  up. 
Eight  enraged  hands  then  tore  the  French  mate 


«$>         The  French  Mate         «$»  131 

from  the  mizzen-rigging  as  the  sweep  of  the  hurri- 
cane uproots  a  tree.  All  in  a  heap,  struggling, 
wrestling,  groaning,  they  got  him  past  the  after- 
swifter,  and  to  an  order,  shrieked  through  his  teeth 
by  the  French  boatswain,  they  hoisted  him  length- 
wise to  the  rail,  and  dropped  him  into  the  boat.  The 
French  boatswain  then  made  a  sort  of  salaam  bow 
to  the  captain  and  Hardy,  and  the  whole  four  dis- 
appeared in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  over  the  side 
amid  shouts  of  laughter  from  the  seamen  who  had 
been  washing  down  the  decks. 

"  Get  all  sail  upon  her,  Mr.  Hardy,"  said  Captain 
Layard ;  "  but  I  shall  keep  my  topsail  to  the  mast 
for  awhile  until  I  see  what  they  mean  to  do  with 
that  barque." 

The  sailors  dropped  their  buckets  and  scrubbing- 
brushes,  and  fell  to  howling  at  the  halliards.  Top- 
gallant and  royal-yards  rose,  the  mainsail  was  left 
to  swing  with  its  clews  aloft,  and  the  York  was  now 
a  fuH-rigged  ship,  hove  to,  but  clothed  to  her  trucks, 
leaning  with  the  swell  as  though  by  swaying  she  was 
knitting  her  frame  together  for  the  start. 

A  ship  when  under  sail  on  the  ocean  is  alive ; 
watch  her  closely  and  you  will  discover  that  she  has 
human  intelligence  in  her  methods  of  helping,  and  at 
the  same  time  influencing,  the  reason  that  governs 
the  helm  and  incarnate  walks  the  quarter-deck  or 
bridge.  It  was  about  a  quarter-past  seven;  the 
sailors  resumed  the  business  of  washing  down;  the 
decks  sparkled  as  the  brine  flashed  along  the  planks, 
and  the  boatswain  stimulated  this  sweetening  process 
by  the  inspiriting  language  of  the  land  of  the  slush- 
lamp.  The  captain  stood  right  aft  watching  the 
receding  figure  of  the  barque's  fat  boat.  The  placid 


132  «*  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f* 

heave  of  the  deep  was  crisped  by  the  delicate 
crumbling  foam  curling  from  low,  blue  brows  to  the 
gentle  gushing  of  the  pleasant  breeze,  like  some 
scene  of  swelling  land  enamelled  with  white  flowers ; 
the  blankness  to  leeward  had  melted  into  azure,  and 
it  was  all  blueness  and  brightness,  and  you  heard  a 
song  that  was  sweet  with  its  summer  note  upon  the 
harp-strings  of  the  lofty  spars. 

"  What  will  they  do  with  him  ?  "  said  the  captain, 
going  to  the  companion  and  resting  his  hand  upon 
it  as  though  in  a  moment  he  would  descend. 

"  I  am  wondering,  sir,"  answered  Hardy,  who 
stood  near.  "  I  should  not  like  to  be  in  the  power 
of  that  bo'sun  after  I  had  killed  his  brother." 

"  Death  drugs  revenge ;  I  would  not  kill  my 
enemy,"  said  the  captain,  putting  on  one  of  those 
incommunicable  looks  which  always  alarmed  Hardy 
with  thoughts  of  the  ship's  safety.  "  I  would  keep 
my  brother's  murderer  alive  —  at  sea.  There  is  the 
middle-watch  and  the  ghastly  face  of  the  moon! 
Whispers  aloft  and  God's  eye  in  every  star!  The 
ghostly  figure  should  walk  the  quarter-deck  with  the 
assassin,  should  enter  his  berth  with  him,  and  sit 
beside  his  bunk  and  watch  him.  That  is  the  revenge 
that  kills  the  soul  —  the  very  thought  makes  me 
sweat." 

His  face  changed  into  an  expression  of  agitation, 
and  with  a  sudden  hurry  he  disappeared  down  the 
companion-steps. 

Hardy  watched  the  French  boat  draw  alongside 
the  barque.  He  wondered  that  the  captain  should 
have  left  the  deck  at  such  a  time;  it  was  another 
illustration  of  his  insanity,  no  doubt.  "  He  has  gone 
to  see  to  little  Johnny,  perhaps,"  the  mate  thought, 


«$»         The  French  Mate         «f»  133 

what  had  happened  having  faded  in  the  chaotic 
muddle  of  his  reason.  Here  was  Captain  Layard, 
who  was  determined  to  make  a  swift  passage,  keep- 
ing his  ship  hove  to  and  going  below  to  talk  to  his 
bright-haired  boy,  to  help  him  dress  maybe,  and 
to  muse  in  lopsided  moralising  over  the  medicine 
chest. 

He  took  the  glass,  and  levelled  it  at  the  barque, 
and  saw  the  boat  slowly  ascending  in  spasmodic 
jerks  to  the  davits.  A  few  men  dragged  at  the  falls, 
and  upon  the  port  quarter  of  the  poop  the  rest  of 
the  ship's  company  apparently  had  assembled,  and 
were  clearly  discussing  the  recapture  of  the  mate 
with  the  heat  and  passion  of  the  French  when  ex- 
cited. They  gesticulated,  they  surged  and  reeled, 
and  Hardy  again  saw  one  or  another  of  them  fling 
his  hand  in  the  direction  of  the  fore  yard-arm. 

He  could  not  see  if  the  mate  stood  amongst  them, 
and  all  forward  was  vacant  deck,  pulsating  with  the 
shadow  of  swinging  sail.  There  was  nothing  else  in 
sight  all  away  round  the  girdle  of  the  deep,  though 
this  was  a  frequented  sea ;  and  the  two  vessels,  to  a 
distant  eye,  might  have  seemed  abandoned,  so  aim- 
less was  the  look  they  got  from  the  white  cloths 
incurving  to  the  masts. 

About  ten  minutes  after  the  boat  had  been  hoisted, 
Hardy,  who  continued  to  watch  the  barque  through 
the  glass,  saw  several  men  go  forward,  and  shortly 
after  a  man  got  .into  the  fore-rigging,  and  crawled 
aloft  and  gained  the  fore-yard.  The  powerful  lenses 
brought  the  barque  close,  and  Hardy  easily  saw,  as 
he  followed  the  man  sliding  to  the  yard-arm,  that  he 
carried  a  tail-block  in  his  hand.  He  made  this 
block  fast  to  the  extremity  of  the  yard,  and  whilst  he 


134  *&  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

was  doing  this  another  man  got  into  the  fore-rigging 
holding  a  line,  the  end  of  which  he  gave  to  the 
fellow  on  the  yard,  who  rove  it  through  the  block, 
and  then  came  into  the  fore-rigging  grasping  the 
line,  and  both  men  descended  to  the  deck. 

Hardy  rushed  to  the  companionway  and  shouted 
down  the  hatch,  taking  his  chance  of  the  skipper 
hearing  him,  "  They  are  going  to  hang  that  mate 
who  killed  the  captain !  " 

A  moment  or  two  later  up  came  Captain  Layard. 

"  What's  that  you  sang  out  ?  "  he  cried.  "  What's 
wrong?  I'm  with  Johnny." 

"  Look  for  yourself,  sir,"  answered  Hardy,  and 
he  gave  the  glass  to  him.  The  captain  pointed  it. 
Mad  or  not  mad,  he  knew  what  a  yard-arm  whip 
was,  and  what  in  this  case  it  signified.  He  saw  a 
crowd  of  men  on  the  forecastle ;  he  distinguished  the 
figure  of  the  mate,  with  his  arms  pinioned  behind 
him,  standing  within  a  fathom  of  the  rail  rounding 
to  the  forecastle  break.  As  he  gazed  he  saw  a  man 
bandage  the  wretch's  eyes  with  a  red  handkerchief. 
The  same  man  next  secured  the  end  of  the  line  to 
the  man's  neck,  and  the  captain,  with  the  telescope 
at  his  eye,  began  to  mutter,  and  Hardy  saw  that  his 
face  had  turned  a  greenish  yellow,  but  he  could  not 
understand  what  he  said,  nor  clearly  perceive,  as  did 
the  captain,  all  that  was  happening  aboard  that 
tragic  barque,  with  its  wift  at  the  gaff-end  beating 
the  air  like  a  human  arm  in  agony. 

In  the  captain's  glass  the  bulk  of  the  forecastle 
crowd  melted  and  could  not  be  seen  on  the  main- 
deck.  One  who  was  left  —  and  the  muttering  cap- 
tain thought  that  he  was  the  boatswain  —  held  a 
book  and  seemed  to  be  reading  from  it.  The  two 


«f»         The  French  Mate         «•»  135 

men  kept  the  barque's  victim  pinned  to  the  rail ;  the 
man  who  was  reading  closed  his  book  and  raised  his 
arm  straight  up,  looking  toward  the  main-deck. 
The  two  men  sprang  back  from  the  murderer,  whose 
figure  soared  aloft,  a  ghastly  shape  of  man  flying 
wingless  to  the  yard-arm. 

"  O  my  God!"  cried  Hardy,  who  saw  it,  and 
the  crew  of  the  York,  watching  that  picture  of  short 
shrift  and  flying  form,  groaned  and  cursed  with 
British  hatred  of  the  sudden  execution,  made  das- 
tardly by  numbers. 

They  could  see  the  man  rushed  to  the  nape  of  his 
neck  to  the  yard-arm  block,  then  fall,  bringing  up 
with  a  sudden  belaying  of  that  gallows-rope,  and 
the  hanging  man  began  to  swing  like  a  pendulum  of 
death  midway  betwixt  the  yard-arm  and  the  feather- 
ing surface  of  the  sea. 

"  Suppose  he  didn't  do  it?  "  said  Captain  Layard, 
letting  the  telescope  sink  and  turning  his  face  slowly 
to  Hardy,  who  thought,  even  in  that  moment  of 
horror  and  astonishment,  that  the  captain  had 
spoken  nothing  saner  since  the  voyage  began.  "  Fill 
on  your  topsail,"  continued  the  captain,  in  a  trem- 
bling voice,  his  face  distorted  by  passions  and  fancies 
beyond  the  penetration  of  reason.  "  I  wouldn't  have 
Johnny  see  that  sight;  they'll  keep  him  swinging 
till  he  has  ticked  out  the  minutes  his  soul  has  taken 
to  arrive  in  hell.  Fill  on  your  topsail,  sir.  And 
what'll  the  beggars  do?  They'll  wait  for  help  to 
come  along." 

The  mate  was  walking  a  little  way  forward,  and 
the  captain,  with  his  back  upon  the  barque,  stood 
muttering  to  himself.  It  was  a  pleasant  breeze,  and 
the  ship  took  the  weight  of  the  sunlit  gush  of  blue 


136  -^  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «9» 

wind  with  a  buoyant  heel,  and  then  she  broke  the 
waters  at  the  bow.  In  two  hours  the  barque  was 
glimmering  like  the  crest  of  a  sea  in  the  liquid  ether 
far  and  far  astern.  Her  topsail  was  still  aback,  and 
doubtless,  as  Captain  Layard  had  said,  she  was 
waiting  for  the  help  that  must  soon  come  along. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 
LOST! 

AND  now  for  another  week  of  this  ship's  adven- 
ture. There  is  little  to  record.  As  she  drove  to 
the  south  and  west  the  breeze  freshened  by  strokes, 
and  the  foam,  white  as  daylight,  seethed  with  a  lee- 
ward roll  to  the  channels,  whose  plates  flashed 
jewelled  fountains  from  her  side. 

It  was  noble  sailing  with  a  buckling  stu'nsail 
boom,  and  every  taut  weather-shroud  and  backstay 
spirited  the  sea-whitening  keel  with  sweet,  clear 
songs  of  rejoicing.  All  the  crew  loved  little  Johnny, 
and  the  great  Newfoundland,  placid,  stately,  and 
benign,  was  ever  at  his  side,  courting  the  boy,  with 
looks  of  love,  to  play.  Always  in  this  fine  weather 
the  sunny-haired  lad,  in  the  miniature  clothes  of  the 
bluejacket,  would  of  a  dog-watch  take  his  drum 
upon  the  forecastle,  and  roll  out  a  good  rattling  ac- 
companiment to  the  cheerful  piping  of  the  whistle. 
Then  the  sailors  would  dance  whilst  the  ship's  stem 
rent  the  water  into  sweat,  and  the  bow-sea  rolled 
away  in  glory,  and  the  western  heavens  grew 
majestical  with  sunset. 

And  all  this  time  no  man  spoke  a  hint  as  to  the 
captain's  state  of  mind,  because,  as  I  have  said, 
the  sailor  has  no  eyes  for  the  human  nature  of  the 
quarter-deck  until  it  should  become  as  visible  and 
demonstrative  as  a  windmill  in  a  wind. 

137 


138  ^  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

This  Captain  Layard  was  not;  his  moods  and 
motions  were  of  too  subtle  a  sort  to  be  interpretable 
by  the  forecastle  gaze,  and  all  the  strange  uncon- 
scious discoveries  of  himself  he  limited  to  Hardy, 
scarcely  ever  speaking  to  the  second  mate  unless  to 
give  him  an  order.  But  even  when  he  talked  to 
Hardy,  no  man  could  have  sworn  that  he  was  mad- 
der than  most  dreamers  are.  It  was  only,  as  Hardy 
thought,  that  his  talk  was  so  cursedly  inconsequen- 
tial. He  reminded  him  of  a  diver  who  if  you  look 
to  port  comes  up  to  starboard,  whose  spot  of  emer- 
gence is  always  somewhere  else. 

One  day,  at  the  end  of  the  time  just  spoken  of, 
the  ship  was  stretching  her  length  along  a  wide  blue 
sea  enriched  with  running  knolls,  shadowed  by 
themselves  into  deepest  violet,  aflash  with  sudden 
meltings  of  foam  which  whitened  the  windward 
picture,  and  ran  with  smooth  curves  from  the  lee- 
ward yeast  that  rushed  into  the  water  from  the  side. 

The  captain  was  below.  It  was  about  ten  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  There  was  now  a  sting  in  the  light 
of  the  sun,  as  he  floated  upwards  in  an  almost  tropic 
glory,  undimmed  by  the  flight  of  little  clouds  which 
hinted  at  the  Trade.  Our  friend  the  chief  mate, 
Hardy,  was  walking  up  and  down  the  weather-side 
of  the  quarter-deck.  A  sailor  stood  at  the  wheel 
trim  for  his  trick ;  he  was  a  British  seaman,  his  easy 
floating  figure  and  swift  look  to  windward,  aloft, 
and  into  the  compass  bowl  put  thoughts  into  one's 
head  of  the  time  when  men  like  him  wore  pigtails 
down  their  backs  and  fired  the  fury  of  hell,  as'  the 
Spaniard  said  to  Nelson,  into  the  gunports  and  sides 
of  the  audacious  enemy. 

There    was    music    on    that    quarter-deck,    for 


«$»  Lost!  «9»  139 

Johnny,  who  was  admiral  of  that  ship,  the  captain 
being  very  much  under  him,  had  sent  for  the  whistle, 
and  the  sailor  had  come  at  once,  bringing  his  music 
with  him.  He  was  seated  upon  the  skylight,  and 
was  piping  that  cheerful  song,  "  A  Wet  Sheet  and 
a  Flowing  Sea,"  all  over  the  ship  to  the  delight  of 
the  watch  on  deck,  who  worked  the  nimbler  for  it; 
and  Johnny  made  martial  music  of  that  sea-song 
with  his  drum. 

The  ship  rushed  along  with  festive  lifts  and  falls 
and  triumphant  choruses  in  her  weather-rigging 
as  the  swing  of  the  sea  brought  her  masts  to  wind- 
ward, and  all  was  beauty  and  sunlight,  and  white 
phantoms  of  little  sailing  clouds,  and  swelling  can- 
vas yearning  to  the  azure  recess  at  which  the  ship, 
like  some  goddess  of  the  sea,  was  pointing  with  her 
spear  of  jibboom. 

Presently  the  boy  grew  tired;  the  piper  went 
forward,  and  as  the  captain's  servant  came  along 
Johnny  gave  him  his  drum  and  sticks  to  carry  below. 
The  great  Newfoundland  was  lying  at  its  length 
beside  the  skylight,  and  Johnny  sat  upon  him,  and 
lifting  his  ear  talked  into  it,  and  the  dog  grunted  in 
affectionate  reply.  But  little  boys  soon  tire  of  any- 
thing save  sweets,  and  Johnny  joined  Hardy,  and 
they  walked  together.  The  lad  had  a  very  inquisi- 
tive mind,  and  was  constantly  wanting  to  know. 
He  began  to  question  Hardy  about  the  ship.  What 
is  the  good  of  that  little  sail  right  on  top  up  there? 
Why  didn't  they  give  each  mast  one  great  sail? 
Wouldn't  that  save  trouble?  Couldn't  they  let  it 
down,  and  tie  it  up,  as  they  did  that  middle  sail  there, 
when  the  weather  grew  nasty  ?  Wouldn't  Hardy  be 
glad  to  get  home  ?  How  old  was  he  ?  Was  he  glad 


140  <&  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

to  be  so  old  ?  Wouldn't  he  rather  be  eight  ?  After 
much  interrogative  conversation  of  this  sort  he  felt 
tired,  and  strayed  from  Hardy's  side  and  walked 
about  the  quarter-deck,  looking  around  him  as 
though  he  wished  to  pick  up  something  which  he 
could  throw  at  the  sea. 

Going  right  aft,  abaft  the  man  at  the  wheel,  his 
arch,  sweet,  wondering  eyes  were  taken  by  the  sight 
of  some  Mother  Carey's  chickens ;  also  the  splendid, 
dazzling  stream  of  wake  that  was  rushing  off  in 
snake-like  undulations  attracted  him.  A  stretch  of 
ash-white  grating  protected  the  wheel-chains  and  the 
relieving  gear.  It  stood  a  little  way  under  the  taff- 
rail  and  was  not  very  high  above  the  deck,  and  the 
tiller  worked  under  it. 

Unnoticed  by  Hardy,  Johnny  got  upon  this  grat- 
ing to  watch  the  sea-birds,  also  to  obtain  a  view  of 
the  place  where  that  giddy,  boiling,  meteoric  river 
of  foam  began.  A  sea-bird  is  a  thing  of  beauty, 
which  is  a  joy  to  a  little  boy  upon  whom  the  shades 
of  the  prison-house  have  not  yet  begun  to  close ;  and 
the  dazzle  of  spinning  foam  hurling  seawards  is  also 
a  beauty  and  a  wonder  and  a  miracle,  as  are  many 
other  things  in  this  pleasant  world  of  flowers  and 
valleys  and  streams;  for  I  have  seen  a  little  child 
pick  a  daisy  and  view  it  with  greater  transport  than 
could  even  be  felt  by  a  beautiful  young  woman 
bending  with  beaming  eyes  over  the  bracelet  of 
diamonds  with  which  her  lover  has  just  clasped  her 
wrist. 

Johnny  fell  upon  his  knees  and  crawled  upon  the 
grating  to  the  taffrail,  the  flat  surface  of  which  he 
kneeled  upon,  peering  over  and  down  betwixt  the 
gig  and  the  taffrail  to  see  the  place  where  the  white 


«^»  Lost!  «f>  141 

water  began  under  the  counter.  The  poor  little 
fellow  overbalanced  himself,  and  Hardy,  whose  eye 
was  upon  him  in  that  instant,  saw  him  vanish. 

"  O  my  God !  "  he  shrieked.  "  Man  overboard!  " 
he  shouted.  "Hard  down!  hard  down!" 

And  whilst  the  wheel  went  grinding  up  to  wind- 
ward, and  whilst  the  sails  aloft  were  beginning  to 
thunder  to  the  weather  sweep  of  the  rushing  bows, 
Hardy,  tearing  off  his  coat  and  waistcoat  and  shoes, 
leaped  from  the  quarter  into  the  boiling  yeast  and 
struck  out. 

Scarcely  had  he  shot  overboard  when  the  great 
dog  Sailor,  springing  up  with  a  swift  movement  of 
his  head  around,  leapt  like  a  darting  flame  on  to 
the  rail  from  which  Hardy  had  plunged,  and  jumped. 
There  was  plenty  of  foam  in  the  sea,  and  it  was 
almost  blinding  Hardy,  who  swam  strongly;  but  it 
did  not  blind  the  dog,  who  saw  the  mate  but  not  the 
child,  and  made  for  him.  A  sea  swept  Hardy  to  its 
summit,  and  he  perceived  the  child  some  three  or 
four  cables'  length  distant;  a  head  of  foam  rolled 
over  that  sun-bright  speck  and  it  disappeared,  and 
as  Hardy  sank  into  the  trough  the  dog,  that 
stemmed  the  brine  like  some  swiftly-urged  boat, 
caught  him  by  the  collar  and  forced  him  round  in  the 
direction  of  the  ship,  whose  main-yards  were  now 
aback  and  one  of  whose  lee  quarter  boats  was  rapidly 
descending,  with  the  captain  on  the  grating,  waving 
his  arms  in  frantic  and  heart-subduing  pantomime. 

"  Sailor !  "  roared  Hardy,  struggling  with  his 
whole  force  to  round  the  noble  creature's  head  in  the 
direction  where  he  had  seen  the  bright  point  vanish. 
"  O  God !  doggie,  dear  doggie !  Johnny  is  over- 
board, and  drowning!  Go  for  him,  Sailor!  go  for 
him,  Sailor !  " 


142  «Q»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «•» 

And  buoyed  by  the  magnificent  swimmer  whose 
teeth  were  in  his  collar,  he  stiffened  his  breast  and 
pointed.  But  the  Newfoundland,  who  had  not  seen 
Johnny  fall,  had  leapt  to  save  the  life  of  Hardy,  and 
with  bitter,  blighting  despair  in  his  heart  the  gallant 
young  fellow  felt  the  beautiful  animal  at  his  side 
urging  him  irresistibly  up  one  slope  and  down 
another  in  the  direction  of  the  ship,  with  its  dreadful 
figure  of  human  anguish  gesticulating  and  shouting 
on  the  grating. 

The  hearts  that  bent  the  blades  rowed  with  love 
of  the  boy  and  a  maddening  passion  to  save  him. 
They  came  to  Hardy  first  and  dragged  him  and  the 
dog  over  the  gunwale,  and  a  man  standing  up  in  the 
stern-sheets  steered  the  boat  for  the  place  where 
the  little  fellow  had  last  been  seen  from  the  deck 
of  the  ship.  But  they  rowed  in  vain.  Sodden  with 
brine,  and  half  blinded  by  the  tears  of  a  manly 
sailor's  heart,  the  mate  strained  his  vision  over  the 
running  seas,  and  knew,  O  God!  and  knew  that 
Johnny  had  sunk  for  ever. 

"  Oh,  what  a  pity !  "  said  one  of  the  men. 

"  The  dog  could  have  saved  him,"  exclaimed 
another. 

"  No,  he  was  gone  before  the  dog  could  have 
reached  the  place,"  said  Hardy,  and  he  sank  upon  a 
thwart  and  covered  his  face. 

The  Newfoundland  laid  his  massive  jaws  upon 
his  knee  in  caress  and  in  encouragement,  knowing  he 
was  saved,  and  loving  him  as  those  majestic  crea- 
tures love  the  life  they  have  torn  from  the  grasp  of 
death.  The  men,  with  the  lifted  blades  of  their  oars 
sparkling  in  the  sun,  gazed  silently  around,  but 
Johnny  was  gone.  The  tall  seas  seethed,  and  the 


«9»  Lost !  «$»  143 

boat  fell  away  with  their  melting  heads  and  rose 
buoyant  to  the  height  of  the  next  slant,  but  Johnny 
was  gone,  and  after  they  had  lingered  half  an  hour 
the  men,  to  the  command  of  Hardy,  turned  the 
boat's  head  toward  the  ship,  and  rowed  away  from 
that  sun-lighted  scene  of  ocean  grave  which  already 
the  hand  of  viewless  love  had  strewn  with  flowers 
and  garlands  of  foam. 

Captain  Layard  was  standing  with  tightly  folded 
arms  beside  the  skylight  when  Hardy  arrived  on 
board,  and  approached  him,  shuddering  with  grief 
and  with  the  exhaustion  that  attends  even  a  brief 
spell  of  battling  with  the  rolling  seas  of  the  ocean. 
The  unhappy  father's  face  was  utterly  unintelligible 
in  expression.  And  still  a  critical  eye,  with  good 
capacity  for  subtle  penetration,  would  in  this  time 
of  sudden  and  awful  bereavement  have  witnessed  in 
that  poor  man's  face  the  dangerous  condition  of  his 
soul. 

The  men  who  were  hoisting  the  boat  pulled  with 
askant  looks  full  of  respect  and  rough  sympathy,  and 
the  boat  rose  in  silence,  so  touched  were  the  sailors' 
hearts  by  this  sudden  loss  of  the  bright-haired  little 
darling  of  the  ship.  The  Newfoundland,  shaking 
a  shower  from  his  coat,  came  to  the  captain,  seemed 
to  know  that  grief  was  in  him,  and  looked  up  at 
him. 

"  Where  is  my  little  Johnny  ?  "  said  the  captain  to 
Hardy,  in  a  firm,  sharp  tone. 

Hardy  could  not  answer  him. 

"  There  is  no  good  in  telling  me  that  he's  not  on 
board  this  ship,"  said  the  captain,  letting  fall  his 
arms  and  swaying  in  a  strange  way  with  the  leeward 
and  weather  rolls  of  the  arrested  vessel.  "  Where  is 
he  hidden?" 


144  *&  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

He  stepped  to  the  companion  and  shouted  down, 
"  Johnny,  Johnny,  my  darling !  Come  up  with  your 
drum !  The  men  want  music !  Come  up  with  your 
drum,  my  Johnny !  " 

The  sailors  belayed  the  falls  of  the  boat  and 
secured  her,  and  slowly  walked  forward,  never  a  one 
of  them  speaking.  The  captain  went  below,  calling 
"  Johnny."  Mr.  Candy  came  up  to  Hardy.  Both  he 
and  the  watch  below  had  rushed  on  deck  to  that 
dreadful  cry  at  sea  of  "  Man  overboard !  "  and  to 
that  sudden  change  you  feel  in  a  ship  when  the  yards 
of  the  main  are  swung  aback.  All  the  concern  that 
a  man  with  white  eyelashes  and  pale  hair  and  a  skin 
like  a  cut  of  roasted  veal  can  look  was  in  Candy's 
face  as  he  said : 

"  This  blow  has  turned  the  captain's  head,  sir." 

"  I  cannot  speak  to  you,"  Hardy  answered. 

"  Let  me  fetch  you  some  brandy,  sir,"  said  the 
second  mate.  Hardy  raised  his  arm.  Candy  walked 
to  the  quarter  and  stood  staring  at  the  sea  where 
the  child  had  sunk.  The  Newfoundland  dog  was 
growing  uneasy.  You  saw  by  the  creature's  motion 
of  head  and  by  other  signs  that  he  knew  something 
was  wrong.  Twice  he  growled  low  and  walked 
round  the  skylight  smelling  the  planks,  then  coming 
to  the  companionway  he  listened  and  sprang  down 
the  steps. 

Hardy  stood  waiting  for  the  captain.  It  was  not 
for  him  to  order  the  topsail-yard  to  be  swung  until 
the  captain  spoke.  All  the  seamen  were  forward 
standing  in  groups  waiting  for  the  command,  and 
the  boatswain,  in  the  face  of  the  general  grief,  could 
find  nothing  for  them  to  do  until  the  quarter-deck 
started  them. 


I 

Lost !  «f»  145 


It  filled  Hardy  with  anguish,  though  he  was  only 
a  mate  in  the  British  Merchant  Service,  the  one  un- 
recognised condition  of  our  national  life,  spite  of 
the  pleading  of  its  heroic  traditions  and  the  claims 
of  its  English  seamen  of  to-day,  upon  the  admira- 
tion of  their  country,  to  think  of  the  poor,  desolate, 
brain-afflicted  father  below,  seeeking  in  his  madness 
his  beloved  little  boy.  He  knew  that  this  man  had 
tenderly  loved  the  mother  of  that  child  and  mourned 
her  loss  with  a  sailor's  heart,  and  that  the  bright  and 
spirited  lad,  whom  God  had  summoned,  had  been  his 
constant  companion  since  his  wife's  death,  the  light 
of  his  life,  the  flower  whose  fragrance  had  sweetened 
the  loneliness  of  command. 

He  stood  waiting,  soaked  to  the  flesh.  Suddenly 
the  captain  appeared. 

"  Johnny  is  not  below,"  he  said.  "  He's  some- 
where in  the  ship.  When  did  you  see  him  last, 
Mr.  Hardy?" 

And  still  Hardy  could  not  answer  him.  The 
Newfoundland  had  followed  his  master,  and  the 
whole  frame  and  benign  eyes  of  the  noble  creature, 
to  whom  and  to  whose  like  man  denies  a  soul, 
yielded  preternatural  token  of  loss  and  disquiet  that 
was  human  in  eloquence. 

The  captain  did  not  seem  to  heed  Hardy's  silence 
and  manner.  He  looked  with  great  eagerness  and 
a  certain  wildness  along  the  decks,  and  then  putting 
his  hand  to  the  side  of  his  mouth,  with  his  face 
turned  forward,  where  the  men  stood  watching  him, 
he  shouted  in  an  imperious  voice  as  though  he  would 
frighten  an  answer  from  the  concealed  child : 

"  Johnny !  —  It  is  strange,"  said  he,  in  a  low  voice, 
turning  and  looking  at  Hardy,  "  Is  he  aloft?"  And 


146  <**  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  *9* 

he  turned  his  eyes  up  and  scrutinised  the  rigging,  the 
tops,  the  crosstrees,  the  yards,  stepping  to  the  rail 
so  as  to  obtain  a  view  past  the  leaches  of  the  canvas. 

"  Shall  I  order  those  yards  to  be  swung,  sir,  and 
way  got  upon  the  ship?  "  said  Hardy,  speaking  with 
difficulty. 

"  I  want  Johnny,"  was  the  captain's  answer,  and 
he  walked  slowly  forward,  looking  to  right  and  left 
of  him,  as  though  the  little  lad  must  be  in  hiding 
somewhere,  flat  beside  a  forward  coaming  or  behind 
a  hencoop,  or  under  the  long-boat,  for  his  figure 
had  been  small,  and  he  could  have  concealed  himself 
within  the  fakes  of  the  halliards  coiled  down  upon 
a  pin. 

The  men  drew  back,  scattered  in  a  kind  of  dis- 
solving way,  gazed  with  sheepish  looks  of  sympathy, 
one  rugged  man  with  damp  eyes,  for  he  too  had 
lost  a  son  beloved  with  the  rough  love  of  a  heart 
unhardened  by  salt  and  toil. 

"  Has  any  man  among  you,"  said  the  captain, 
bringing  his  head  out  of  the  galley  door  —  for  the 
child  had  been  a  frequent  guest  of  the  cooks  of  the 
ships  he  had  sailed  in:  they  would  make  him  jam 
tarts  and  little  cakes,  and  his  prattle  to  the  fellows 
was  as  cheering  to  them  as  the  song  of  a  canary  — 
"  has  any  man  among  you,"  he  said,  "  seen  my 
little  boy?" 

"  I  don't  think  you'll  find  him  forward,  sir,"  an- 
swered the  boatswain.  "  Jim,  jump  below  and  see 
if  he's  in  the  fok'sle." 

The  sailors  exchanged  looks  which  seemed  to 
suggest  that  they  thought  it  kind  and  wise  in  the 
boatswain  to  humour  the  captain,  whose  mind,  to 
them,  appeared  a  little  shaken  and  made  uncertain 
by  the  shock  of  his  loss, 


«$»  Lost!  «f»  147 

"  No,  I'll  trust  no  man's  eyes  but  mine,"  ex- 
claimed the  captain,  with  a  lofty  expression  of  face, 
and,  going  to  the  scuttle,  which  is  the  little  hatch 
through  which  the  seamen  drop  into  their  parlour, 
he  put  his  legs  over  and  descended. 

One  man  only  was  in  this  forecastle.  He  was 
the  young  seaman  who  had  played  the  whistle  whilst 
Johnny  beat  the  drum.  He  started  up  at  the  sight 
of  the  captain,  amazed  by  a  visit  that  was  unpar- 
alleled in  his  experience  or  recollection  of  forecastle 
story.  His  face  showed  marks  of  unaffected  dis- 
tress, and  indeed  this  rude  but  sympathetic  heart 
had  been  seated  for  some  minutes  prior  to  the  cap- 
tain's entrance,  with  bowed  head  resting  in  his 
wart-toughened  palms,  thinking  of  the  child  and 
his  sudden  death. 

It  was  a  strange,  gloomy  interior.  The  swing 
of  the  lamp  kept  the  shadows  on  the  wing,  and  oil- 
skins and  coats  swayed  upon  the  ship's  wall  to  the 
solemn  plunge  of  the  bows,  and  you  heard  the  roar 
of  the  smitten  and  recoiling  surge  in  a  low  thunder, 
like  the  sound  of  a  railway  train  striking  through 
the  soil  into  a  vault.  Some  bunks  went  curving  into 
the  gloom  past  the  light  which  fell  through  the 
hatch,  and  a  few  hammocks  stretched  their  pale, 
bale-like  lengths  under  the  upper  deck.  Here,  too, 
were  sea-chests  —  a  few  only  —  and  odds  and  ends 
of  sea-boots,  and  the  raffle  of  the  sailor's  ocean 
home. 

"Where's  my  son?  Is  he  down  here?"  ex- 
claimed the  captain,  haggard,  and  with  something 
dreadful  in  his  looks  in  that  light,  uttering  the  words 
as  peremptorily  as  ever  he  delivered  an  order  on 
the  quarter-deck. 


148  •&  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

The  young  fellow  gazed  aghast  at  him  in  silence. 

The  captain,  who  did  not  seem  to  heed  whether 
he  was  answered  or  not,  went  to  the  bunks  and  ex- 
amined them  one  by  one,  knelt  and  looked  under 
them,  felt  the  sagged  canvas  of  the  hammocks.  Oh, 
it  was  pitiful ! 

"  He's  not  here,"  he  exclaimed,  turning  to  the 
young  sailor.  "  Have  you  got  your  whistle  handy  ? 
Pull  it  out  and  pipe.  The  music  will  bring  him  with 
his  drum." 

The  young  man  went  to  his  bunk  and  took  the 
whistle  from  the  head  of  it.  His  face  was  full  of 
awe  and  wonder;  it  was  a  bit  of  psychology,  a 
trick  or  two  above  all  his  art  of  seamanship. 

"  What  shall  I  play,  sir?  "  he  asked,  in  a  shaking 
voice,  with  a  glance  up  through  the  scuttle  at  the 
men  gathered  near  and  listening. 

"  What's  his  favourite  tune?  "  said  the  captain. 

The  young  fellow  reflected,  and  answered,  " '  Sally 
come  up,'  sir.  It  runs  well  with  the  drum." 

"  Play  it,"  said  the  captain. 

The  young  fellow  put  the  whistle  to  his  lips  and 
blew.  The  contrast  between  the  merry  air,  shrilling 
in  the  forecastle  and  out  through  the  hatch  into  the 
bright  wind,  and  the  captain's  half -triumphant  face 
of  expectancy  would  have  melted  a  heart  of  steel. 
The  poor  man  stepped  under  the  little  hatch  and 
shouted  up,  "  On  deck  there !  " 

"  Sir,"  answered  the  boatswain,  showing  himself. 

"  Can  this  whistle  be  heard  aft?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Watch  a  bit,  and  report  if  he's  coming." 

The  young  seaman,  who  was  nearly  heartbroken 


«•»  Lost !  «$»  149 

with  his  obligation  of  playing,  continued  to  pipe,  and 
you  beheld  a  vision  of  dancing  sailors,  and  swelling 
canvas  reverberating  the  rattle  of  the  drum. 

The  captain  waited  under  the  hatch,  his  poor  face 
charged  with  ardent  expectation.  He  might  have 
overheard  a  gruff  voice  say,  "  It  oughtn't  to  be  al- 
lowed to  go  on.  He'd  get  all  right  if  he'd  go  to 
his  cabin,  where  it  'ud  come  to  him."  But  he  paid 
no  heed. 

Suddenly  the  whistling  ceased,  and  the  young 
fellow,  flinging  his  whistle  into  his  bunk,  cried,  "  It's 
choking  me,  sir." 

The  captain  looked  at  him,  and  saying,  "  Where 
is  Johnny?  "  climbed  through  the  hatch  and,  without 
a  word  to  the  sailors,  walked  slowly  aft. 

The  whole  ship  seemed  to  tremble  throughout  her 
frame  with  every  lift  and  fall,  as  though  like  some- 
thing alive  she  was  now  startled  by  this  strange 
delay,  and  the  foretopmast  studdingsail  curved 
with  the  weight  of  the  wind  from  its  boom,  and  no 
doubt,  in  the  language  of  sailcloth,  cursed  the  main- 
topsail  for  stopping  its  eager  drag. 

Hardy  stood  beside  the  second  mate,  to  leeward, 
on  the  quarter-deck,  and  watched  the  captain  coming 
aft.  The  great  dog  in  a  leap  gained  his  master's 
side  and  marched  with  him,  looking  with  beautiful 
sagacity  up  into  the  poor  man's  face.  The  captain 
walked  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  sky,  just  over 
the  sea-line  astern,  but  if  speculation  were  in  his 
gaze  it  was  not  interpretable ;  he  saw,  or  seemed  to 
see,  something  beyond  the  blue  haze  of  distance,  and 
thus  he  watched  it,  without  speaking  to  the  two 
mates,  or  turning  his  eyes  upon  them,  until  he  came 


150  -^  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <& 

to  the  companion-hatch,  down  whose  steps  he  went, 
followed  by  the  dog. 

Noon  was  near  and  an  observation  must  be  taken. 
Hardy,  whose  clothes  were  plastered  by  water  upon 
him,  said  to  Candy : 

"  We  must  get  an  observation  and  swing  the 
yards.  This  blow  has  thrown  his  mind  off  its  bal- 
ance, and  he  might  not  thank  us  later  if  we  should 
go  on  as  though  he  were  responsible." 

"  I  agree  with  you,  sir,"  said  Candy. 

Hardy  called  to  the  boatswain,  who  came  quickly. 

"  You  know  the  law  of  the  sea  as  well  as  I  do," 
said  the  mate,  "  and  I  don't  want  you  and  the  men 
to  believe  that  I  have  taken  charge  of  the  ship  even 
for  five  minutes  because  I  mean  to  get  way  upon 
her." 

"  She  wants  it,"  said  the  boatswain,  looking  for- 
ward along  the  ship  as  though  she  were  a  horse. 

"  I  must  get  an  observation,"  continued  Hardy, 
"  and  you  and  the  men  will  judge  that  the  captain 
would  wish  me  to  do  what  he  himself  would  do  if 
his  terrible  loss  had  left  him  capable  of  doing  any- 
thing." 

"  It  don't  need  reasoning  about,  sir,"  said  the 
boatswain. 

"  Hands  lay  aft  and  swing  the  maintopsail-yard ! " 
shouted  Hardy.  "  Lee  mainbrace !  Mr.  Candy,  will 
you  step  below  for  your  sextant?  Kindly  bring 
mine." 

Candy  went  below.  The  men  came  running  aft. 
But  the  shadow  of  death  was  upon  the  ship,  bright, 
boundless,  and  streaming  with  the  life  of  the  wind 
as  were  heaven  and  ocean,  and  the  sailors  dragged 


«$»  Lost!  «£»  151 

the  great  yards  round  in  silence.  The  ship  heeled 
over  a  little  more  to  the  full  swell  of  her  canvas, 
and  as  Hardy  took  his  sextant  from  Candy  she  was 
bursting  the  blue  surge  into  white  glory,  and  the 
leeward  foam  was  passing  fast  and  faster. 


CHAPTER   IX. 
THE  INDIAMAN'S  BOAT 

THE  seas  were  breaking  fast  and  fierce  from  the 
bows,  and  the  wake  flashed  into  the  windy  distance 
in  a  fan-shaped  splendour  as  of  sunshine,  and  hands 
were  aloft  furling  the  fore  and  mizzen  royals,  and 
some  fore-and-aft  canvas  was  rattling  hanks  and 
lacing  on  their  stays  to  the  drag  of  down-hauls; 
the  ship  was  sonorous  with  the  music  of  the  sea,  and 
by  looking  over  the  weather  side  you  could  have 
seen  the  green  sheathing  sweating  with  foam,  storm- 
ing through  the  dazzling  smother  like  a  wounded 
dolphin  whose  blood  is  sweet  to  dolphins;  yet  this 
was  but  a  fragment  of  the  magnificent  picture  of 
foaming  seas  and  flying  cloud,  with  the  lofty  swell- 
ing ship  shearing  through  the  heart  of  the  day  in  a 
thunder-storm  of  prisms  and  of  spray,  lovely  as  the 
heights  of  heaven  when  some  stars  are  green  and 
some  shine  like  the  rose. 

Hardy  came  on  deck.  He  stood  and  looked  about 
him,  refreshed  by  a  shift  of  clothes  and  by  a  nip  of 
grog.  He  had  worked  out  his  sights,  and  before 
mounting  the  steps  had  stood  a  minute  at  the  cap- 
tain's door  listening ;  he  heard  the  poor  man's  voice, 
and  judged  by  its  solemn  imploring  note  that  he 
was  praying,  but  the  noise  of  the  sailors  above  made 


«^»          The  Indiaman's  Boat       «$»       153 

him  hurry,  and  though  it  was  his  watch  below  he 
felt  that  he  was  in  command,  and  that  the  safety  of 
the  ship  was  in  his  hands. 

Any  seaman  will  understand  this  mate's  critical 
and  difficult  situation.  A  captain  is  not  to  be  lightly 
deposed ;  drunken  captains  and  —  unless  they  grow 
frantic  —  mad  captains  must  be  obeyed  or  endured 
or  it  is  mutiny,  with  heavy  penalties  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  the  ship ;  and  the  mate  of  a  merchantman 
may,  though  by  conscientious  act,  lose  power  of 
earning  bread  for  himself  and  his  home  unless  as 
a  foremast  hand,  for  the  law  is  hard,  and  the  ship- 
owner harder  still. 

"  You  had  better  take  the  mainsail  off  her,  Mr. 
Candy,  and  furl  the  main-royal,"  said  Hardy.  "She 
has  more  than  she  wants." 

The  stu'nsail  was  in  and  so  was  the  boom,  and 
Hardy  gave  other  directions,  but  they  need  not  be 
repeated  because  minuteness  is  tedious,  and  the 
language  of  the  sea  cryptic  to  millions.  When 
Sheridan  was  asked  how  the  poetaster  described 
the  phoenix,  he  answered,  "  Just  as  a  poulterer 
would !  "  The  poulterer  is  not  good  in  art,  and 
the  beak,  talons,  and  all  are  merits  when  left  out. 

It  was  about  a  quarter  to  one,  and  the  cabin 
dinner  would  be  coming  aft  soon.  The  cook  was 
busy  in  his  galley,  and  black  smoke  was  smothering 
the  bulwarks  abreast  from  the  chimney.  Hardy 
paced  the  deck  watching  the  seamen  at  work,  Candy 
superintended  the  business.  There  was  plenty  for 
the  mate  to  think  of.  The  grief  planted  in  his  kind 
heart,  by  recollection  of  his  hopeless  effort  to  rescue 
the  poor  drowned  child,  was  overwhelmed  by 
thoughts  of  the  captain,  his  undoubted  madness,  the 


154  +  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  -$> 

state  of  the  ship;  and  then  his  mind  on  a  sudden 
went  away  to  Julia  Armstrong;  he  wondered  what 
would  be  her  fortune,  if  luck  would  attend  her  in 
India,  if  her  love  for  him  —  he  would  not  pretend 
aught  else  to  himself  —  would  hold  her  unwilling  to 
remain,  that  she  might  return  in  the  vessel  and  meet 
him  once  more;  "  In  which  case,"  he  declared  to 
himself,  "  I  will  marry  her  and  chance  it." 

The  ship  was  rushing  onward  like  a  shooting  star, 
and  the  wind  clothed  the  sails  with  the  thunder  of 
its  power;  but  she  was  comfortable  and  dry.  The 
bright  bursts  were  flung  clear  of  her  by  the  rush  of 
the  breeze,  and  she  took  the  seas  with  that  perfect 
grace  of  leap  and  curtsey  which  sails  alone  do  give. 

As  Hardy  walked,  the  cabin  servant  came  up  to 
him  and  reported  dinner  on  the  table. 

"  Have  you  told  the  captain  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"Is  he  at  table?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Hardy  went  below.  The  captain  was  in  his  accus- 
tomed place  cutting  at  a  big  meat  pie ;  his  brow  was 
knitted,  and  with  the  whole  strength  of  his  soul  he 
seemed  intent  upon  this  job  of  cutting  the  pie.  His 
long  hair  and  the  hair  upon  his  cheeks  and  chin 
accentuated  the  expression  of  his  pale  face,  which 
was  one  of  wildness  and  of  grief  so  subtle  that  it 
might  scarcely  be  known  as  grief  by  the  heart  that 
ached  with  it;  but  when  he  raised  his  eyes,  Hardy 
saw  a  darkness  upon  his  vision  as  though  the 
shadow  of  death  was  on  his  eyelids. 

"  Will  you  have  some  of  this  pie  ?  "  said  he,  quite 
sanely. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  answered  Hardy. 


«$»          The  Indiaman's  Boat       «$»       155 

"  We'll  shift  for  ourselves,"  said  the  captain,  turn- 
ing to  the  attendant.  "  Bring  whatever  else  there  is 
in  'a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

The  man  left  the  cabin.  The  captain,  with  knife 
and  fork  poised,  without  serving  Hardy  viewed  him 
intently  during  a  short  passage  of  silence,  and  then 
said: 

"  Johnny  has  strayed  away  from  this  ship  and  he's 
left  his  drum  behind  him,  but,"  he  added,  smiling 
with  his  heart-moving  smile  of  superiority,  "  I  shall 
find  him." 

He  loaded  a  plate  and  thrust  it  at  the  length  of 
his  arm  toward  Hardy,  who  took  it. 

"  Are  not  you  eating,  sir?  "  said  Hardy. 

"How's  the  ship?"  was  the  answer. 

Hardy  reported  the  sail  she  was  under.  The 
question,  the  all-important  question,  whether  sights 
had  been  taken,  was  not  asked.  The  captain  took  a 
piece  of  meat  out  of  the  pie  and  gave  it  to  the  New- 
foundland, who  sat  beside  him  on  the  deck. 

"  I  don't  like  rich  clergymen,"  he  said,  abruptly. 
"  The  man  who  steers  his  ship  to  the  glowing  gates 
of  heaven  should  be  rich  in  heart  and  love.  The 
precious  freight  is  that;  let  him  despise  the  devil's 
cargo.  I  once  said  to  a  wealthy  parson,  '  Take  up 
your  cross  and  follow  me.  D'ye  remember  it,  sir? 
but  you  and  the  like  of  you  give  your  cross  to  the 
coachman  and  get  inside.' ' 

He  spoke  this  in  a  voice  of  thunder,  and  his  face 
was  grotesque.  Hardy  was  eating  with  difficulty. 
The  chatter  of  the  afflicted  brain  is  a  pain  to  the 
hearer,  for  the  sane  strokes  make  the  inconsequential 
talk  as  ghastly  as  the  lifelike  motions  of  the  electri- 
fied corpse. 


156  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

From  time  to  time  the  dog  got  up  and  moved 
about  the  cabin  sniffing.  He  was  missing  Johnny. 
He  would  come  to  Hardy's  side  and  turn  his  gentle, 
affectionate  eyes  up  at  the  mate's  face  in  such 
dumb  inquiry  as  would  be  holy  if  it  were  human; 
then  he  would  go  to  the  captain  and  do  the  like.  The 
poor  man  played  with  some  meat  out  of  the  pie, 
but  did  not  eat.  He  had  been  educated  at  a  great 
public  school  and  his  speech  and  voice  had  the  cul- 
ture of  breeding,  and  the  lapses  and  diversions  of 
the  talk  that  he  addressed  to  Hardy  made  his  lan- 
guage more  pitiful  than  shocking.  He  as  often 
spoke  wisely  as  insanely,  but  Hardy  saw,  even  whilst 
he  sat,  that  the  loss  of  his  boy  had  confirmed  in  him 
his  lamentable  prepossession.  He  was  mad,  but  in 
such  fashion  that  unless  he  acted  visibly  the  mad- 
man's part  the  crew  would  fail  to  see  it. 

The  attendant  came  down  with  more  food  for  the 
cabin,  and  this  the  captain  did  not  touch.  Presently 
he  abruptly  rose  and  entered  his  berth,  reappeared 
with  his  cap  on,  and  slowly  stepped  up  the  compan- 
ion-ladder. 

It  was  Hardy's  hope  that  the  poor  fellow  might 
give  such  orders  as  would  induce  the  men  to  suspect 
him  mad,  although  he  felt  they  would  believe  he  was 
only  temporarily  deranged  by  the  bitter  loss  which 
had  left  him  heart-broken;  and  yet  some  heedless 
or  absurd  order,  some  unintelligible  shifting  of  the 
course,  for  example,  some  needless  setting  or  reduc- 
tion of  canvas,  must  act  like  a  surgical  operation  and 
quicken  their  scent,  which  would  help  him  to  come 
to  a  decision  as  to  the  right  thing  to  be  done;  and 
whilst  he  went  on  munching  his  dinner  he  found 
himself  repeatedly  glancing  at  the  telltale  compass 


«$»          The  Indiaman's  Boat       «$»       157 

and  listening  for  the  captain's  voice.  But  the  ship 
sped  steadily  straight  forward,  and  the  captain  re- 
mained silent  though  his  tread  was  audible. 

A  little  while  before  the  mate  had  finished  his 
dinner  Mr.  Candy  came  below.  This  was  unusual : 
in  the  ordinary  movement  of  discipline  he  should 
have  waited  to  be  relieved  by  Hardy. 

"  The  captain  told  me  to  go  and  get  my  dinner, 
sir,"  said  the  second  mate. 

"  All  right,"  said  Hardy. 

Mr.  Candy  sat  down  and  began  to  help  himself. 
Hardy  had  no  particular  fondness  for  this  man :  he 
was  the  son  of  a  pilot,  and  one  of  those  people  who 
add  nothing  to  the  dignity  of  a  service  which  in  its 
day,  in  point  of  breeding,  in  all  art  of  seamanship, 
in  structure  of  vessel,  was  as  good  as  the  Royal 
Navy.  Witness,  for  example,  the  men  and  ships  of 
John  Company;  for  if  no  line-of-battle  ships  flew 
the  flag  of  that  company,  and  the  flags  of  the  owners 
of  fleets  of  stately  craft,  ships  of  commerce  had  been 
and  were  still  then  afloat  as  lordly  in  build,  as 
gracious  and  commanding  in  star-searching  heights, 
as  the  finest  of  the  frigates  of  Britannia.  But  Candy 
was  second  mate  of  the  ship,  and  to  that  degree  was 
important. 

"  Captain  Layard  is  very  down,"  said  Hardy. 
"  It's  a  cruel  bad  job.  I  loved  the  little  boy,  and  the 
dog  that  loved  him  too  wouldn't  let  me  save  his  life." 

"  It  was  plucky  of  you,  sir,  to  jump  overboard," 
said  the  second  mate.  "  All  the  time  the  captain 
walks  he  looks  to  port  and  starboard,  hunting  like 
with  his  eyes  over  the  sea  for  the  little  drummer. 
Strange  he  can't  satisfy  himself  that  the  younker  is 
drowned,  dead  and  gone." 


158  -^  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  •& 

He  was  feeding  heartily,  and  spoke  in  the  inter- 
vals of  chewing. 

"  This  shock,"  said  Hardy,  who  saw  that  the  man 
was  not  to  be  talked  to  confidentially,  "  may  have  a 
little  weakened  the  poor  father's  mind  for  a  time. 
We'll  assume  it  so  for  the  common  preservation; 
therefore,  in  your  watch  on  deck  should  he  give 
orders  which  might  prove  him  thinking  more  of 
Johnny  than  the  ship,  call  me  at  once." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!" 

This  said,  Hardy  went  to  his  berth  to  smoke  a 
pipe  and  get  some  rest,  for  he  could  not  know  what 
lay  before  him,  and  sleep  is  precious  at  sea. 

At  four  o'clock  Candy  aroused  him.  The  captain, 
he  learnt,  had  been  below  an  hour.  Nothing  worth 
reporting  had  happened  during  Candy's  watch. 
Hardy  went  on  deck,  and  did  not  see  the  captain 
throughout  the  first  dog-watch.  The  breeze  was 
slightly  scanting;  the  main-tack  was  boarded  and 
the  main-royal  loosed  and  set.  Hardy,  like  a  good 
many  other  chief  mates,  was  always  for  carrying  on 
whenever  he  was  in  charge,  and  the  breeze  blew  and 
the  girls  of  the  port  he  was  bound  to  always  hauled 
with  a  will  at  his  tow-rope.  Besides,  there  was  the 
night's  detention  to  be  made  good,  and  the  clipper 
was  making  it  good  as  she  sheared  through  the 
coils  of  the  sea,  boiling  in  dim  rose  to  the  westering 
light.  It  was  like  a  field  of  hurdles  to  a  favourite, 
and  she  swept  them  with  a  bounding  keel,  slinging 
rainbows  as  she  went,  and  the  surge  sang  in  thunder 
to  the  melodies  of  the  rigging. 

Hardy's  whole  thoughts  concerned  the  captain. 
He  quite  remembered  that  in  the  cabin  of  the 
stricken  father  stood  a  medicine-chest  full  of  deadly 


«$»          The  Indiaman's  Boat       «$»       159 

poisons.  Would  he  take  his  life?  Full  often  the 
demon  of  madness  goes  on  beckoning  to  the  ghastly 
Feature  till  it  springs.  But  what  could  the  mate  do  ? 
It  was  not  within  his  right  to  remove  the  chest.  If 
he  durst  act  in  any  way  he  would  lock  up  the 
captain  at  once,  but  he  had  the  talk  and  opinions 
of  a  crew  of  seamen  to  consider,  and  if  the  captain 
should  be  revisited  by  the  same  degree  of  sanity 
that  had  enabled  him  to  navigate  the  vessel  to  this 
point,  how  would  Hardy  stand,  supposing  —  and 
supposition  here  involved  a  very  possible  contin- 
gency —  that  the  captain,  to  preserve  his  own  posi- 
tion, should  charge  him  with  the  ugliest  breach  of 
discipline  a  merchant  officer  could  be  guilty  of? 

He  did  not  meet  the  captain  again  till  the  supper 
hour.  The  ship  was  then  under  all  plain  sail.  The 
west  was  glowing  like  a  furnace,  and  the  ocean  was 
calming  to  the  softening  of  the  breeze.  The  captain 
came  from  his  berth  into  the  cabin  as  Hardy  stood 
beside  the  table.  The  meal  was  ready,  and  they 
sat  down.  There  was  a  curious  look  of  satisfaction 
in  the  captain's  face.  The  acute  eye  of  Hardy  easily 
saw  that  some  soothing  delusion  was  in  possession 
of  the  man.  He  asked  two  or  three  questions  about 
the  ship,  and  quite  sanely  said : 

"  What  did  you  make  the  latitude  and  longitude 
to  be  at  noon?  " 

Hardy  answered  the  question. 

The  captain  began  to  eat  hungrily,  and  all  the  time 
his  face  gave  token  of  an  inward  content,  lifting  in- 
deed into  the  pleasure  of  assured  expectation;  but 
somehow  there  were  visible  in  this  lunatic  web  of 
emotion  threads  of  cunning  clearly  perceptible  to 
Hardy,  who,  perhaps,  as  the  son  of  a  doctor  whose 


1 60  «*•  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «*» 

professional  experiences  he  had  often  listened  to, 
was  able  to  see  a  little  deeper  than  the  vision  of  a 
plain  seaman  could  penetrate. 

"  There  is  no  doubt,  Mr.  Hardy,"  suddenly  said 
the  captain,  "  that  I  shall  be  able  to  find  Johnny." 

"  I  hope  so,  sir,"  answered  Hardy,  gravely. 

"  I  have  no  doubt,"  exclaimed  the  captain  with  a 
sparkle  of  triumphant  cunning  lighting  up  his  eyes. 
"  I  must  be  patient  and  wait,  for  I've  got  to  hear 
where  he  is." 

Hardy  was  silent. 

"  It  may  come  to  me  in  a  dream,"  continued  the 
poor  man,  "  or  it  may  be  revealed  to  me  in  a  whisper. 
I  believe  with  Milton  that  the  air  is  thronged  with 
millions  of  spiritual  beings.  I  have  in  my  watches, 
when  a  mate,  heard  whispers  in  the  dark !  I  believe 
in  God  the  Father  Almighty  "  —  and  he  recited  the 
Apostles'  Creed  whilst  he  stroked  the  head  of  his 
dog,  who  sat  at  his  side.  "  It  is  a  glorious  confes- 
sion, Mr.  Hardy.  What  should  make  a  man  more 
religious  than  the  sea  life?  They  think  us  a  breed 
of  blasphemers,  but  to  whom  is  the  glory  and  the 
majesty  and  the  power  of  the  Supreme  unfolded 
if  not  to  the  sailor  ?  We  behold  the  birth  of  the  day, 
and  witness  the  sublimity  of  the  Spirit  in  the  glitter- 
ing temples  of  the  east,  from  which  the  sun  springs, 
to  reveal  the  marvel  of  the  ocean  and  the  heavens  to 
the  sight  of  man;  and  we  witness  the  death  of  the 
day,  gorgeous  and  kingly  in  its  departure,  over 
which  the  angels  spread  a  funeral  pall  sparkling  with 
the  diamonds  of  the  night." 

He  pressed  his  hands  to  his  brow  and  sighed  with 
that  long  tremor  in  which  the  broken  heart  often 
vents  itself. 


«f»          The  Indiaman's  Boat       +       161 

The  night  passed  quietly.  The  breeze  yet  slack- 
ened and  was  blowing  a  gentle  wind  at  midnight. 
There  was  a  moon  somewhere  in  the  sky,  and  her 
light  fell  upon  the  dark  waters,  and  the  sight  of 
the  small  seas,  curling  in  frosted  silver  through  the 
radiance,  was  as  beautiful  as  the  picture  of  the  ship 
stemming  softly,  her  canvas  stirless  as  carven  shields 
of  marble. 

The  captain  came  and  went  throughout  the  night, 
and  no  man  aboard  saving  Hardy  would  have 
dreamt  of  holding  him  mad  and  irresponsible. 
Candy,  when  his  watch  was  up,  had  nothing  to 
report  but  this :  that  the  skipper  would  walk  the 
deck  fast,  abruptly  halting  at  the  weather-rail  to 
stare  at  the  ocean  in  pauses  running  into  minutes, 
then  crossing  to  the  lee-rail  to  stare  again  in  pas- 
sages of  dumb  scrutiny.  What  more  conceivable 
than  that  the  afflicted  man  should  be  full  of  the 
memory  of  his  lost  child,  and  that  he  should  break 
off  in  his  walk  to  meditate  upon  the  mighty  grave 
in  whose  heart  his  little  one  was  sleeping  ? 

Candy  thought  thus,  and  so  did  the  helmsman, 
who  would  find  the  men  he  talked  to  about  it  of  his 
own  mind  when  he  was  relieved  at  the  wheel  and 
went  forward. 

And  so  the  night  passed  into  the  sad  light  of 
dawn,  which  brightened  into  the  glory  of  a  morning 
full  of  sunshine.  The  breeze  had  shifted  three 
points,  and  the  ship  was  sailing  slowly  with  the 
yards  square  and  the  weather-clew  of  the  mainsail 
up. 

Now  was  to  happen  the  strangest  incident  in  this 
ship's  adventure.  It  was  Nelson  who  said  that 
nothing  is  impossible  or  improbable  in  sea-affairs, 


1 62  <9>  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «£* 

There  is  no  invention  of  man  that  can  top  the 
grim,  the  grotesque,  the  beautiful,  the  sublime,  or 
the  touching  facts  which  the  great  mystery  of  liquid 
surface  yields  to  human  experience. 

A  seaman,  who  was  sitting  astride  of  the  star- 
board foretopsail  yard-arm,  busy  with  marline-spike 
on  some  job  that  the  lift  needed,  hailed  the  deck. 

"Where  away?"  shouted  Hardy  from  the  quarter- 
deck. 

"Right  ahead,  sir,"  answered  the  man,  who  looked 
a  toy  sailor,  his  white  breeches  trembling,  and  the 
round  of  his  back  sharp-lined  against  the  blue. 

Hardy  fetched  the  glass,  and  going  to  the  mizzen- 
rigging  pointed  it.  He  caught  it  instantly.  It  was 
a  boat,  how  far  off  it  was  impossible  to  say,  for 
distance,  when  a  small  object  grows  visible,  is  very 
difficult  to  measure  with  the  eye  at  sea,  but  she  was 
plain  to  the  naked  sight  of  the  man  on  the  yard-arm ; 
the  telescope  brought  her  close,  and  Hardy  counted 
five  figures  in  her,  one  of  whom  was  standing  on  the 
foremost  thwart  waving  something,  —  a  shirt  or  a 
piece  of  canvas.  Her  mast  was  stepped,  but  the 
sail  was  down,  and  she  lay  waiting,  vanishing  and 
reappearing  as  the  shallow  hollows  ran  sucking 
under  her. 

When  Hardy  dropped  the  glass  he  found  the 
captain  by  his  side. 

"  What  is  in  sight  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  speaking  with 
something  of  breathlessness,  as  though  his  heart  was 
tightened. 

"  A  ship's  boat,  sir,  with  five  people  in  her," 
answered  Hardy. 

"  I  shall  find  him,"  exclaimed  the  captain,  and  the 
old  look  of  superiority  to  all  human  intelligence, 


«$»          The  Indiaman's   Boat       «$»        163 

and  the  pathetic  sparkle  of  cunning  with  which  the 
diseased  brain  will  often  illuminate  the  eye,  were 
perceptible  to  Hardy.  "  Give  me  the  glass,  sir." 

The  captain  levelled  it  and  was  a  long  time  in 
looking,  and  all  the  time  he  looked  he  breathed  slow 
and  deep  like  a  man  in  heavy  slumber. 

"  Stand  by  to  back  the  foretopsail,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  Let  a  hand  be  ready  with  a  line  and  others  to  help 
them  aboard,  for  twice  I  have  fallen  in  with  people 
so  weakened  by  distress  and  famine  and  thirst  —  O 
God,  that  awful  part  of  it  —  that  we  have  lifted 
them  like  babies  over  the  side." 

Presently  the  boat  was  close  under  the  bow ;  the 
foretopsail  was  aback,  and  the  ship,  heaving  slowly 
without  way,  was  alongside  the  little  fabric. 

Her  people  were  four  men  and  a  woman.  The 
men  were  seamen,  apparelled  in  such  clothes  as  the 
merchant  sailor  went  clad  in.  They  staggered  a 
little  as  they  stood  up,  and  one  in  the  bow  reeled 
as  he  caught  the  end  of  the  line.  The  woman  was 
sitting  in  the  stern-sheets.  She  wore  a  straw  hat, 
the  shadow  of  whose  brim  darkened  her  face  as  a 
veil  might.  She  was  clothed  in  a  black  jacket,  and 
the  material  of  her  dress  was  dark.  Her  head  was 
a  little  sunk,  as  though  she  was  too  weary  to  hold 
it  erect. 

The  captain,  overlaying  the  rail,  stared  with  bright 
devouring  eyes  into  the  boat.  He  did  not  seem  to 
heed  the  people  in  her;  he  was  looking  for  some- 
thing else. 

"  Are  you  able  to  help  the  lady  aboard?  "  shouted 
Hardy. 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  the  man  who  had  caught  the 
line;  "  we've  been  adrift  two  days." 


164  *0»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <Q> 

His  weak  voice  proclaimed  the  truth  of  his  words. 
At  the  sound  of  Hardy's  cry  the  woman  in  the  stern- 
sheets  lifted  her  head,  and  the  shadow  of  the  brim 
of  her  hat  slipped  off  her  face.  Hardy  instantly 
recognised  her. 

"  Great  God !  "  he  exclaimed. 

He  was  struck  motionless  by  astonishment,  but  his 
faculties  rallied  in  a  breath;  in  a  minute  he  had 
sprung  into  the  main  chains,  and  a  jump  carried  him 
into  the  boat. 

"O  Mr.  Hardy!"  shrieked  the  girl,  and  she 
tried  to  rise  to  clasp  him,  but  her  exhaustion  was  too 
great  and  she  could  only  sob. 

"  On  deck  there ! "  shouted  Hardy,  who  was 
usurping  all  the  privileges  of  the  captain  in  that 
moment  of  tumultuous  sensations.  "  Send  down  a 
chair  and  bear  a  hand."  And  whilst  this  well-under- 
stood order  was  being  executed  —  it  meant  simply 
a  tail-block  at  the  main  yard-arm  and  a  line  rove 
through  the  block  with  a  cabin-chair  secured  to  the 
end  of  it  —  and  whilst  the  four  nearly  spent  sailors 
of  the  boat  were  being  helped  by  the  men  in  the 
ship,  Hardy  was  talking  to  Julia. 

"  What  a  meeting !  What  has  happened  to  vour 
ship?" 

Her  lips  were  pale  and  a  little  cracked,  her  eyes 
were  languid,  and  dim  with  tears,  a  shadow  as  of 
hollowness  lay  upon  each  cheek.  She  spoke  with 
difficulty. 

"  The  Glamis  Castle  was  burnt  two  days  ago  in 
the  night.  We  have  been  drifting  about  since  then 
without  food  or  water.  Oh,  thank  God  for  this! 
thank  God  for  this  —  and  to  meet  you! " 

"  Bear  a  hand,  my  lads,  bear  a  hand,"  shouted 


«£»          The  Indiaman's  Boat       «£*       165 

Hardy,  whilst  the  captain  with  his  head  showing 
above  the  rail  stood  staring  into  the  boat.  The 
mate  would  not  tax  her  with  speech;  she  might 
be  dying!  Some  alert  seamen  were  in  that  clipper, 
and  to  the  instincts  and  humanity  of  a  British 
sailor  no  form  of  distress  appeals  more  vehemently 
than  the  open  boat  in  which  they  see  no  breaker, 
than  the  open  boat  in  which  men  and  women 
may  be  dying  of  thirst.  Swiftly,  as  though  the  crew 
of  the  York  were  the  disciplined  and  gallant  hearts 
of  the  battle-ship,  a  chair,  well  secured,  sank  from  the 
yard-arm  and  was  seized  by  Hardy.  He  lifted  the 
girl  on  to  it,  took  a  turn  round  her  with  a  piece  of 
line  which  had  come  down  with  it,  and  she  soared 
from  his  nimble,  skilful  hands,  and  vanished  from 
his  sight  behind  the  bulwarks.  He  gained  the  deck 
in  a  few  instants,  and  was  at  the  girl's  side  before  the 
sailors  could  liberate  her  from  the  chair. 

"  She  is  a  dear  friend  of  mine,"  said  he,  loudly, 
that  the  men  might  understand  that  more  was  in 
this  thrilling  passage  than  humanity  only.  And 
passing  his  arm  round  her  waist  to  support  her  he 
helped  her  to  walk  aft. 

The  captain's  face  looked  dark  with  disappoint- 
ment, and  as  Hardy  drew  close  to  him  he  heard  him 
mutter,  "  They  have  not  brought  him,  they  have  not 
brought  him !  " 

"  I  will  take  this  lady  below,  sir,"  said  Hardy, 
speaking  rapidly.  "  Her  ship  has  been  burnt.  They 
have  been  without  food  and  water  for  two  or  three 
days,"  and  he  passed  on  with  the  girl  to  the  com- 
panion-hatch, whilst  the  captain  stood  dumbly  fol- 
lowing them  with  his  eyes,  with  the  noble  New- 
foundland standing  beside  him. 


1 66  «9»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «Q» 

In  silence  the  two  descended  the  cabin  ladder,  and 
with  the  tenderness  of  a  lover,  which  in  such  men  as 
Hardy  has  the  sweetness  of  a  woman's  love,  he 
placed  her  upon  a  locker  and  poured  out  a  little 
water.  She  drank  with  the  passion  of  thirst,  and 
asked  for  more  with  her  eyes,  but  Hardy  knew 
better  and  gave  her  a  biscuit,  which  would  lightly 
soothe  the  craving  of  the  hunger  that  is  often  felt 
after  thirst  is  assuaged.  She  bit  a  little  piece  of 
biscuit,  and  said  : 

"  Won't  you  give  me  a  little  more  water  ?  " 

"  Very  soon.     Eat  that  biscuit." 

He  stepped  to  the  pantry  where  some  brandy  was 
kept,  and  poured  a  tablespoonful  in  a  wine-glass, 
and  this  rilled  up  with  water  he  gave  her  after  she 
had  eaten  the  biscuit.  The  stimulant  helped  her, 
and  even  as  he  stood  watching  her  with  his  heart 
beating  fast  with  this  wonder,  this  miracle,  of  almost 
unparalleled  meeting,  he  witnessed  symptoms  of  a 
reviving  spirit,  of  a  reanimated  body  in  her  face. 

At  this  moment  Captain  Layard  came  down  the 
companion-steps  and  approached  them  with  an  eager, 
strained  expression.  His  eyes,  alight  with  mania  — 
for  madness  has  its  expectations  and  disappoint- 
ments —  rested  with  a  searching  gaze  upon  the  girl. 

"  Have  you  seen  him  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  Hardy,  quickly  trying  to 
catch  Julia's  eye,  but  she  was  staring  with  alarm  at 
the  captain,  as  you  would,  or  I,  under  such  conditions 
of  inexplicable  confrontment.  "  She  is  a  dear  friend 
of  mine  and  is  ill  with  the  sufferings  of  an  open  boat, 
but  her  presence  in  this  ship  may  mean  more  than 
we  can  dream  of  now." 

The  captain's  face  changed,  his  eyes  took  a  fresh 
illumination  with  his  smile. 


«$»          The  Indiaman's  Boat       «$»       167 

"  See  to  her,  Mr.  Hardy,  see  to  her,  and  I'll  start 
the  ship  afresh." 

He  left  the  cabin. 

"  May  I  have  another  biscuit?  "  said  Julia. 

Hardy  handed  one  and  smiled,  for  he  saw  again 
the  sweet  unconscious  cock  of  her  head,  not  the  less 
fascinating  to  him  because  her  eyes  were  dim,  her 
cheeks  a  little  hollow,  her  lips  pale. 

"  Was  that  the  captain?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered. 

"  What  was  he  asking  ?    Is  he  right  in  his  mind  ?  " 

"  His  only  son,  a  little  boy,  a  beautiful  bright- 
haired  little  boy,  fell  overboard  and  was  drowned, 
and  —  But  we  will  talk  about  the  captain  and 
your  adventures  when  you  are  stronger." 

He  mused  a  moment  or  two,  and  then  added, 
"  You  will  take  the  rest  you  need  in  my  cabin,  and 
a  berth  shall  be  made  ready  for  you.  A  good  long 
sleep  will  restore  you.  So  come." 

He  put  his  arm  through  hers  and  caused  her  to 
rise,  and  indeed  she  still  needed  the  support  he  gave 
her.  He  took  her  to  his  cabin,  and  as  she  walked 
she  looked  about  her  with  growing  animation,  which 
is  a  cheering  sign,  and  once  she  exclaimed,  "  Thank 
God,  I  am  safe !  Thank  God,  I  have  met  you !  But 
how  wonderful  —  oh,  how  wonderful !  " 

She  sat  on  his  sea-chest  whilst  he  smoothed  and 
prepared  the  bunk.  It  was  a  little  cabin;  the  bunk 
was  under  a  port-hole,  and  plenty  of  light  came 
flashing  in  off  the  trembling,  feathering  sea.  You 
might  hear  the  tramp  of  feet  overhead,  and  the 
thump  of  coils  of  rope  flung  off  their  pins.  There 
were  none  of  the  garnishings  which  often  make 
pathetic  such  interiors  as  this ;  when  a  young  officer 
hangs  up  the  picture  of  his  wife  with  their  first  baby 


i68  -*•  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  +> 

on  her  knee,  neither  of  them  to  be  kissed  and  clasped 
for  months  and  months,  even  if  God  be  merciful  to 
the  poor  fellow  and  his  ship ;  no  rack  full  of  pipes, 
no  odds  and  ends  of  curios  —  in  short,  nothing  orna- 
mented the  wall  of  Hardy's  sea-bedroom  but  a  long 
chart  of  the  English  Channel,  which  it  was  his  cus- 
tom to  study  when  he  lay  in  his  bunk  smoking,  to 
get  absolutely  by  heart  the  lights  which  gem  the 
coast  of  our  island,  and  the  verdure-crowned  terraces 
over  the  way. 

When  the  bunk  was  prepared  he  removed  her  hat 
and  gave  her  a  hair-brush,  and  took  down  a  little 
square  of  mirror  and  held  it  up  before  her.  He 
greatly  admired  the  beauty  and  the  abundance  of 
her  hair,  which  was  parted  on  one  side. 

"  Nothing  so  refreshes  one  as  to  brush  one's  hair," 
said  he. 

"  How  ill  I  look,"  she  exclaimed.  "  How  could 
you  have  recognised  me  so  instantly  ? "  and  she 
lifted  her  eyes,  full  of  caress,  to  his  face. 

"  Will  you  be  strong  enough  to  get  into  that  bunk 
unhelped  ?  "  he  asked. 

It  was  a  low-seated  bunk,  and  she  looked  at  it  and 
answered,  "  Yes." 

"  Then  I  will  leave  you,"  said  he,  and  he  walked 
out  hurriedly,  and  shut  the  door  behind  him. 

He  went  on  deck  to  see  how  the  captain  was  deal- 
ing with  his  ship  and  found  the  vessel  sailing  along, 
with  her  yards  properly  swung  and  everything  right. 
The  boat  from  which  the  people  had  been  received 
was  visible  at  the  tail  of  the  ship's  wake.  The  captain 
had  sent  her  adrift,  which  was  sane  or  not  in  him, 
just  as  you  think  proper.  The  sailors  were  coiling 
down  and  otherwise  busy;  the  four  men  had  been 


<+          The  Indiaman's   Boat       <+       169 

taken  into  the  forecastle,  where  they  were  eating  and 
drinking  and  yarning  to  a  few  of  the  watch  below 
about  the  burning  of  the  Indiaman  Glamis  Castle. 
The  moment  Captain  Layard  saw  Hardy  he  called 
him. 

"  Who  is  the  lady?  "  he  asked. 

"  Miss  Julia  Armstrong,  the  daughter  of  a  retired 
commander  in  the  Royal  Navy,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Where  have  you  lodged  her  ?  " 

"  In  my  cabin  for  the  present,  sir,  till  I  receive 
your  orders  to  get  another  one  ready  for  her." 

"  Oh,  yes,  have  that  done  —  have  that  done,"  the 
captain  said  in  a  smooth,  perfectly  sane  voice.  "  Do 
you  know  what  she  was  aboard  the  ship  ?  " 

Now  Hardy  was  like  the  squire  in  Dickens's  ex- 
quisite sketch  — "  he  would  not  tell  a  lie  for  no 
man !  "  At  the  same  time  he  did  not  wish  Captain 
Layard  should  know  that  Miss  Armstrong  had 
shipped  as  a  second  stewardess,  so  he  replied  she  was 
going  to  Calcutta  with  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the 
bishop  of  that  place.  Her  father  was  poor,  and  the 
girl  wanted  to  find  something  to  do  in  India. 

But  the  captain  was  dreaming.  One  with  eyes 
for  such  faces  as  his  could  easily  see  that  he  was 
thinking  of  something  else,  or  did  not  understand. 
He  continued  to  look  in  silence  for  a  little  while  at 
Hardy,  and  then  the  baleful  sparkle  suddenly  bright- 
ened his  stare,  he  folded  his  arms  and  said,  with  an 
expression  of  triumphant  hope  and  convicition: 

"  She  is  fresh  from  the  sea  and  knows  where 
Johnny  is,  and  she  shall  help  me  to  find  him ! " 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE   CAPTAIN   AND   THE   GIRL 

IT  was  six  o'clock  on  the  same  day  in  which  Julia 
Armstrong  had  been  delivered  from  that  horrible 
sea  tragedy,  the  open  boat,  by  the  miraculous  appa- 
rition of  the  York,  of  all  the  ships  which  the  horizons 
of  the  deep  were  then  girdling!  The  chief  mate 
knocked  upon  the  door  of  his  cabin  where  the  girl 
lay,  and  believing  he  heard  her  say  "  Come  in," 
entered,  and  found  her  asleep. 

The  reddening  sunshine  was  away  to  starboard, 
but  the  heavens  southeast  were  glowing,  and  the 
girl  slept,  visible  to  the  eye  as  the  circle  of  blue  port- 
hole up  which  and  down  which  you  saw  the  clear-cut 
line  of  the  horizon  sliding  like  a  piece  of  clockwork. 
He  stood  looking  at  her,  for  there  was  love  for  this 
girl  in  the  man's  heart,  and  this  encounter  was  so 
wonderful  that  he  witnessed  the  hand  of  God  in  it, 
and  a  sentiment  of  religion  sanctified  his  emotion; 
otherwise,  with  the  sailor's  respect  for  the  repose  of 
those  who  sleep  —  for  the  seamen's  best  blessing 
upon  you  is,  Lord  grant  you  a  good  night's  rest,  sir! 
—  he  would  have  softly  stepped  out  and  left  her. 

And  this  he  would  have  soon  done,  but  as  he 
looked  she  all  at  once  opened  her  gray  eyes  full  upon 
him,  stared  a  few  moments  till  intelligence  came  to 
her,  then  started,  smiled,  and  sat  up  in  the  bunk. 

170 


«0»        The  Captain  and  the  Girl     «$>     171 

"  I've  awaked  you,  I'm  afraid,"  said  Hardy. 

"  I'm  glad  you  have.  I  have  slept  sweetly  and  I 
feel  well,"  she  answered.  "  Strange  that  I  have  not 
dreamt  at  all,  for  I  have  passed  through  a  nightmare 
since  the  burning  of  the  ship.  How  marvellous  to 
see  you  standing  there !  " 

"  Could  you  eat  a  piece  of  cold  fowl  and  drink 
some  wine?  " 

"Yes." 

"  You  shall  sup  here,  for  I  want  to  hear  your 
story.  If  you  are  in  the  cabin,  and  the  captain 
comes  —  " 

He  put  his  head  out  of  the  door  and  hailed  the 
cabin  servant,  who  was  polishing  glasses  in  the  pan- 
try. He  told  him  what  to  get  and  bring,  and  he 
then  caused  the  girl  to  get  out  of  her  bunk,  and 
cushioned  his  sea-chest  with  his  bunk  pillow  as  a  seat 
for  her.  He  smiled  as  he  saw  her  fall  into  the  in- 
comparable posture  (as  he  thought  it)  :  the  head  a 
little  on  one  side,  the  hands  on  the  hips,  the  feet 
crossed,  the  whole  figure  beautiful  now  that  her 
jacket  was  removed,  though  her  dark  blue  blouse 
imperfectly  suggested  the  faultless  grace  of  her 
breast.  Sleep  had  faintly  tinged  her  cheek  whereon 
the  shadow  of  suffering  had  lain;  her  eyes  had 
brightened,  her  lips  had  reddened,  and  all  the  ro- 
mance of  her  face,  which  was  not  beautiful  nor  even 
pretty,  but  alluring,  nevertheless,  was  expressed  once 
more  in  the  flattering  evening  light,  which  suffused 
with  a  liquid  softness  the  atmosphere  of  that  little 
cabin. 

Until  the  man  knocked  at  the  door  with  the  tray 
of  food  and  wine,  they  talked  chiefly  of  home,  of 
the  dry  ditch  and  Bax's  farm,  of  the  East  India 


172  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <*> 

Dock  road  and  of  Captain  Smedley,  whose  escape 
and  probable  safety  the  girl  had  mentioned  early 
in  this  talk.  And  then  whilst  she  supped  —  an  early 
supper,  but  on  the  ocean  it  is  the  last  meal  —  she 
told  him  the  story  of  a  memorable  fire  at  sea. 

There  had  been  many  such  fires,  and  they  nearly 
all  read  like  one.  It  begins  by  some  rascally  sailor 
broaching  a  rum  cask;  or  it  is  a  naked  candle  in 
the  hand  of  a  fool  looking  for  a  brand  in  the  lazar- 
ette;  or  it  is  a  pipeful  of  glowing  tobacco  amongst 
wool ;  the  capsizal  of  a  lamp ;  or  it  is  caused  by  some- 
thing which  the  ocean  sucks  down  to  her  ooze  and 
buries  there,  one  secret  more.  But  however  it  be, 
the  end  is  nearly  always  the  same.  It  was  so  in  this 
case ;  the  fire  took  such  a  hold  there  was  no  dealing 
with  it;  a  score  may  have  perished.  The  girl  saw 
the  bowsprit  and  jib-booms  black  with  figures  of 
men  who  had  been  cut  off  by  the  amidship  furnace. 
Numbers  —  for  she  was  a  full  ship  with  many 
children,  and  besides  passengers  she  was  carrying 
hard  upon  a  hundred  soldiers  in  her  'tween-decks  — 
numbers,  I  say,  got  away  in  the  boats,  and  amongst 
them,  the  last  to  leave,  was  the  captain;  she  did 
not  doubt  that.  She  fell  overboard  in  her  terror, 
and  in  her  recoil  right  aft  from  the  smoke  and  its 
burning  stars,  and  afterwards  found  herself  in  a 
boat  in  the  company  of  five  men,  one  of  whom, 
groaning  heavily  with  internal  injury,  died  in  the 
night  and  was  dropped  over  the  boat's  side. 

She  had  more  to  tell  him  about  this  shipwreck, 
but  that  fire  concerns  my  story  only  in  so  far  as  it 
brings  this  girl  again  on  to  the  stage  by  one  of  those 
dramatic  and  startling  methods  adopted  by  the 
ocean,  whose  moods  are  many. 


4*        The  Captain  and  the  Girl     «*»     173 

"  If  your  captain  is  a  madman,"  she  said,  "  what 
is  to  happen  to  this  ship?  " 

He  put  his  finger  to  his  lips  in  a  gesture  of  caution 
and  reticence. 

"  We  may  whisper  it  to  each  other,"  said  he,  in  a 
low  voice,  "  but  the  crew  have  no  knowledge  of  it, 
or  they  may  attribute  any  strangeness  in  his  manner 
to  the  loss  of  his  child,  and  think  it  passing.  They 
all  loved  the  poor  little  fellow,  and  so  did  I." 

And  he  told  her  how  the  boy  used  to  beat  his 
drum  in  accompaniment  to  the  sailor's  whistle,  and 
related  the  story  of  his  falling  overboard  and  the 
efforts  to  save  him,  and  the  captain's  frantic  dumb- 
show  and  sudden  exhibition  of  insanity,  so  that  he 
believed  his  child  was  merely  missing,  and  that 
something  would  happen  to  tell  him  where  he  might 
be  found. 

"  How  sad !  "  said  the  girl.  "  It  would  have  bro- 
ken my  heart  to  see  it.  And  does  he  still  think  that 
he  will  find  his  little  boy?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  his  conviction,  the  subtle  delusion 
of  the  diseased  brain,"  Hardy  answered ;  "  but  in 
other  matters  with  him  it's  like  writing  on  sand; 
next  tide  all's  gone.  Do  not  tell  him  you  were  a 
stewardess.  Converse  with  him  as  though  he  were 
perfectly  sane.  He  is  a  gentleman  and  an  educated 
man.  Humour  his  sorrowful  fancy,  for  it  can  hurt 
no  one,  and  it  keeps  the  poor  fellow's  heart  up." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  really  in  charge  of  the  ship  ?  " 
she  said. 

"  I  am  watching  her  navigation,"  he  answered, 
"  but  I  tell  you  I  am  at  a  dead  loss  because  he  is 
the  supreme  law-giver  of  the  vessel,  and  what  he 
orders  must  be  done  or  it  is  mutiny.  His  orders 


174  «**  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

may  be  dangerous  to  my  judgment,  but  not  to  the 
men's,  who  take  the  course  as  it's  given ;  and  I  dare 
not  go  amongst  them  and  speak  the  truth.  He 
might  get  better  and  hear  of  it,  and  it  would  be  in 
his  power  to  ruin  me." 

She  sank  her  head  thoughtfully,  understanding 
him.  The  door  was  rapped. 

"  Hullo,"  cried  Hardy. 

It  was  the  cabin  servant  who  had  come  to  tell 
Hardy  that  the  captain  wished  to  see  the  lady. 

"  Where  is  he?  "  inquired  the  mate. 

"  On  deck,  sir.  He'll  come  below  when  I  report 
her  ready  to  receive  him." 

"  Report  her  ready,"  said  Hardy,  and  he  and  the 
girl  went  into  the  cabin. 

She  seated  herself  on  a  cushioned  locker,  and  he 
stood  beside  her. 

"  That's  your  berth,"  said  he,  pointing  to  a  door. 

Gratitude  and  love  were  in  the  smile  she  gave  him. 
The  red  western  blaze  was  on  the  skylight,  and 
reposed  on  her  hair  like  gold-dust.  It  was  Hardy's 
watch  below  —  he  was  therefore  at  liberty  to  be  in 
the  cabin.  He  caught  sight  of  Candy  staring  through 
the  skylight,  but  the  pale-eyed  man  walked  off  in  a 
minute,  and  then  the  captain  came  down. 

He  bowed  with  the  courtesy  of  breeding  to  the 
girl.  Tradition  has  scored  so  heavily  against  the 
merchant  shipmaster  by  virtue  of  romantic  inven- 
tion, which  largely  consists  of  lies,  that  I  dare  say 
it  is  impossible  for  a  landsman  to  believe  that  the 
commander  of  a  merchant-ship  could  be  anything 
but  a  rough,  grog-seamed,  hoarse-voiced  salt,  with- 
out grammar  for  his  log-book.  The  lie  stands  as 
everlasting  as  the  pyramids,  and  for  my  part  it  may 


«^»        The  Captain  and  the  Girl     «f»     175 

go  on  standing,  but  it  is  a  lie  all  the  same,  and  it  is 
my  pleasure  to  paint  the  truth. 

As  the  girl  returned  the  bow  she  saw  the  great 
Newfoundland  in  the  captain's  wake,  and  cried  out 
with  a  sudden  passion  of  admiration,  "  Oh,  what  a 
magnificent  creature !  "  The  dog  made  friends  with 
her  in  an  instant,  and  by  twenty  canine  tokens  ex- 
pressed delight  in  the  caress  of  her  hand.  No  doubt 
the  beautiful  and  faithful  creature  appreciated  the 
sweetening  and  civilising  influence  of  the  lady  in  that 
cabin. 

The  captain  began  by  putting  several  sane  ques- 
tions, and  she  remembered  that  she  was  not  to  tell 
him  that  she  had  shipped  as  an  under-stewardess  in 
the  Glamis  Castle.  He  knew  the  vessel,  and  listened 
with  a  degree  of  attention,  that  excited  Hardy's 
surprise,  to  her  narrative  of  the  fire.  He  seemed 
to  take  a  fancy  to  her,  to  be  pleased  by  her  presence, 
and  said  he  hoped  she  would  be  comfortable  on 
board  his  ship.  In  the  midst  of  his  rational  talk 
he  slapped  his  forehead  and  kept  his  hand  pressed 
to  it,  and  his  face  changed;  a  look  of  grief  that 
made  him  almost  haggard  was  visible  when  he 
dropped  his  hand  and  gazed  at  the  girl. 

"  I  miss  my  son  —  my  little  son,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  and  I  am  waiting  for  something  "  —  he  added, 
in  a  broken  voice  —  "  to  tell  me  where  I  can  find 
him.  His  drum  is  by  his  bed  —  come  and  look 
at  it." 

Awed  by  the  sudden  confrontment  of  hopeless 
human  grief,  the  girl  rose  and  followed  him,  with  a 
glance  at  Hardy  as  for  courage.  The  heave  of  the 
deck  was  gentle;  she  was  stronger,  and  stepped 
without  difficulty.  The  captain  entered  his  cabin 


176  ^  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <*» 

and  closed  the  door  upon  them  both,  which  fright- 
ened her,  for  she  easily  now  saw  how  it  was  with  his 
poor  brain,  and  no  one  in  the  company  of  a  madman 
can  ever  dare  swear  that  in  the  next  minute  he  will 
continue  harmless. 

"  That  is  his  drum,"  said  the  captain.  "  That 
is  the  little  bed  he  slept  in." 

Hardy  outside  stood  close  at  the  door,  listening 
and  prepared. 

"  He  is  my  only  child,"  continued  the  captain, 
compelling  by  his  own  gaze  the  girl's  attention  to  a 
little  coat  and  a  little  cap,  and  other  garments  of  the 
boy  which  were  hanging  upon  the  bulkhead.  "  His 
mother  is  dead,  and  she  was  my  first  and  my  only 
love.  I  miss  him  of  a  night,  and  want  him.  He 
has  been  my  constant  companion  in  several  voyages, 
and  the  life  of  the  captain  of  a  ship  at  sea  is  lonely, 
and  I  miss  him.  It  was  my  delight  to  dress  him  and 
to  listen  to  his  talk.  Oh,  he  is  a  clever  boy!  He 
can  ask  questions  which  the  greatest  mind  could  not 
answer." 

He  sat  down  on  a  chair  by  the  table  on  which  were 
instruments  of  navigation,  a  few  books,  pen  and 
ink,  and  the  like,  and  folding  his  arms  and  bowing 
his  head  he  sobbed  dryly  without  concealment  of 
features,  and  the  piteous  face,  bearded,  the  half- 
closed  eyes,  the  long  hair  under  the  cap  which  he 
had  not  removed,  made  the  girl  feel  sick  and  faint, 
as  though  to  some  oppressive  stroke  of  personal 
grief. 

She  rallied,  for  she  was  a  young  woman  of  great 
spirit,  as  I  have  a  right  to  hold,  and  remembering 
what  Hardy  had  said,  she  exclaimed,  softly: 

"  You  will  find  him,  Captain  Layard." 


«$»        The  Captain  and  the  Girl     «f»     177 

At  this  he  looked  up  at  her,  started  to  his  feet, 
and  his  face  was  eager  and  impassioned  with  emo- 
tion not  communicable,  for  who  can  expound  the 
workings  of  the  diseased  mind? 

"  Tell  me,"  he  cried,  and  she  saw  what  Hardy  had 
also  seen  —  the  baleful  sparkle  of  mania  in  his  eyes, 
"  you're  fresh  from  the  sea,  and  God  may  have 
sent  you  to  me.  Tell  me !  " 

She  could  not  speak.  \Her  consolatory  phrase  had 
exhausted  imagination,  and  her  heart  refused  its 
sanction  to  the  mate's  humane  idea,  that  it  was 
good  to  keep  up  the  poor  fellow's  spirits. 

"  Tell  me !  "  he  repeated,  and  he  advanced  a  step 
and  his  eyes  devoured  her  face. 

"  God  will  comfort  you  and  help  you,"  she  replied, 
not  knowing  what  to  say. 

He  sighed,  and  turning  his  head  fastened  his  eyes 
upon  the  little  bed,  then  looked  at  her  again,  this 
time  with  his  painful  expression  of  superiority,  the 
air  of  a  man  whose  soul  is  exalted  by  contemplation 
of  something  of  heavenly  importance  divulged  to 
him  and  to  him  only,  and  wearing  this  face,  he 
opened  the  door  and  she  passed  out,  which  was 
lucky  for  Hardy,  because  had  the  captain  gone  first 
he  would  have  found  the  mate  standing  close  and 
listening. 

The  captain  remained  in  his  cabin.  The  others 
stood  by  the  table,  and  the  western  light,  rich  and 
red  as  a  deep-bosomed  rose,  flowed  down  upon  them 
through  the  open  skylight. 

"  Poor  man !  Poor  man !  '*  the  girl  exclaimed. 
"  I  fear  that  what  I've  said  will  create  a  delusion ; 
he  will  think  I  know  where  his  child  is." 

"  His  moods  are  like  the  dog-vane,"  said  Hardy. 
"  I  could  not  hear  what  passed." 


178  <&  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

She  told  him.  He  frowned  with  the  puzzle  of  his 
mind. 

"  You  can  judge  now  for  yourself,"  said  he.  "  Is 
it  right  that  a  man  like  this  should  command  a 
ship  whose  safety  became  doubly  precious  to  me 
this  morning?  " 

She  smiled  gently,  but  gravity  quickly  returned; 
she  could  not  but  reflect  his  face  of  worry  and 
uncertainty.  The  great  dog  was  lying  at  his  master's 
door,  and  all  was  silent  in  the  captain's  cabin.  This, 
in  the  pause,  made  her  say: 

"  He  may  commit  suicide." 

"  Not  whilst  he  believes  his  son  is  alive  and  to  be 
found,"  answered  Hardy. 

He  walked  to  the  door  of  her  berth,  opened  it,  and 
she  saw  that  it  was  as  comfortably  equipped  as  the 
ship  would  allow. 

"  You  shall  have  a  hair-brush  and  whatever  else 
I  possess  to  give  you,"  said  he.  "  But  how  about 
clothes  ?  I  can't  dress  you." 

"  I  am  saved,"  she  answered,  "  and  that  is  enough 
to  think  of  at  present." 

This  was  a  spirited  answer  for  a  girl  who  was 
talking  to  the  man  she  loved,  for  would  not  any  girl, 
addressing  the  man  of  her  heart,  grow  pensive  to  the 
thought  that  she  had  but  one  gown  to  wear  in  the 
whole  world? 

He  felt  a  certain  sense  of  independency  owing  to 
the  captain's  state,  and  considered  that  he  was  en- 
titled to  act  beyond  his  rights  as  a  mate.  By  which 
I  mean  that  it  could  not  much  concern  him  if  the 
captain  came  out  and  found  him  talking  to  the  girl, 
and  generally  acting  as  though  he  were  a  passenger 
instead  of  an  officer  of  the  ship. 


«$»        The  Captain  and  the  Girl     «$»     179 

"  Come  on  deck,"  said  he,  "  the  air  will  refresh 
you." 

And  they  went  up  the  companion-steps,  whilst  the 
Newfoundland  continued  to  sentinel  the  captain's 
door. 

A  glorious  evening  sky,  in  the  west  like  a  city  on 
fire,  clouds  with  brows  glowing  into  scarlet  as  they 
sailed  into  the  splendour  abeam,  the  ship  leaning 
with  the  breeze,  and  the  white  spume  twinkling  on 
the  eastern  blue  in  a  trembling  heaven-full  of  the 
lights  of  foam.  Two  sail  were  in  sight,  fairy  gleams 
upon  the  lens-like  edge  on  the  port  bow. 

"  Oh,"  cried  the  girl,  with  a  swift  look  along  the 
deck,  "  after  an  open  boat !  and  one  man  groaning 
and  then  lying  dead  in  her !  " 

They  walked  slowly  to  and  fro  to  leeward,  leaving 
Mr.  Candy,  who  ogled  them  betwixt  his  white  eye- 
lashes; to  pace  the  weather  quarter-deck  in  the  lone- 
liness of  command.  The  sailors  had  immediately 
seen  how  things  stood.  Nothing  that  happens  at 
sea  astonishes  a  sailor,  unless  it  is  the  expected, 
which  is  often  a  real  surprise,  so  full  of  disappoint- 
ments, of  leeway,  head  winds,  misreckoning  is  the 
life.  Here  was  the  chief  mate  who  had  fallen  in 
with  a  girl  whom  he  knew. 

"  They  might  have  kept  company  ashore,"  says 
Bill  to  Jim.  "  She  was  bound  one  way  and  he 
another.  Ain't  that  sailor  fashion?" 

"Ain't  she  got  a  figure?"  says  Jim  to  Bill. 
"  Wouldn't  I  like  to  put  my  arm  round  her  waist 
if  Dick  and  the  little  'un  was  playing.  It's  damned 
hard  on  us  sailor  men  that  no  female  society's 
allowed  aboard  a  ship." 

"  There's  the  figurehead  if  it's  female,"  says  Bill. 


i8o  <&  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$* 

"  I've  known  a  man  so  'ard  up  that  of  a  dog-watch, 
when  there  was  plenty  o'  light,  he'd  slide  down  the 
dolphin-striker  just  to  talk  to  the  woman  on  the 
stem-head.  He'd  say  it  was  the  next  best  thing." 

P^hnps  it  was,  for  some  figureheads  in  those 
days  were  a  little  gorgeous.  I  have  seen  ladies  under 
the  bowsprit  with  long  black  hair  and  swelling 
bosoms,  bright  with  golden  stars.  Their  blush  was 
deep,  their  lips  scarlet,  their  smile  alluring,  they  were 
always  curtseying,  and  the  sea  in  its  loving  humours 
flung  snow-white  nosegays  at  them. 

But  the  shadow  of  the  boy's  death  was  still  upon 
the  ship,  and  so  far  the  captain  had  treated  his  men 
as  men,  and  they  were  sorry  for  him.  You  may  take 
it  that  a  man  is  no  sailor  who  ill-treats  a  sailor,  and 
despite  tradition  and  the  presence  of  the  sea-lawyer, 
your  ship's  company,  if  they  are  British,  will  serve 
you  honestly  if  their  food  is  fit  even  for  sailors,  and 
if  they  are  numerous  enough  to  do  the  work  of  one 
man  and  half  a  man  added  per  head,  as  against  the 
one-man  work  which  the  shore  exacts  without  ex- 
pecting more. 

As  Hardy  and  the  girl  walked  the  deck,  whilst  the 
ship  sailed  along  stately  in  the  beautiful  light  of  that 
evening,  they  talked  again  of  home  and  then  of  the 
country  to  which  they  were  voyaging.  The  sail  upon 
the  port  bow  leaned  like  tiny  jets  of  red  flame,  and 
no  star  of  heaven  could  have  filled  the  liquid  distance 
with  more  grace. 

"  It  was  certainly  your  destiny  to  make  for  Aus- 
tralia," said  Hardy,  "  and  I  now  say  what  I  thought 
from  the  beginning,  that  your  chances  lie  there.  But 
we  had  to  find  you  a  berth." 

"  Captain  Smedley  was  very  kind  to  me,"  she 


«f»        The  Captain  and  the  Girl     «9»     181 

answered.  "  He  would  sometimes  invite  me  into  his 
cabin  and  talk  to  me  as  pleasantly  as  though  he  had 
known  me  all  his  life.  He  gave  me  an  introduction 
to  the  Bishop  of  Calcutta,  and  begged  him  to  do 
everything  that  could  be  done  for  a  girl  placed  as 
I  am.  I  believe  he  talked  to  the  passengers  about 
me,  for  some  were  extremely  good-natured  and  sym- 
pathetic, and  would  apologise  for  troubling  me  if 
I  waited  upon  them." 

"  Any  griffs  aboard  ?  "  asked  Hardy. 

"  Some  young  officers,"  she  answered,  with  a  half 
smile  upon  her  lips,  and  looking  down  upon  the  deck, 
"  but  I  kept  as  much  to  myself  as  I  could." 

"  You'll  find  plenty  of  opportunities  in  Australia," 
said  Hardy.  "  There  are  rich  squatters  in  that 
country,  and  you  can  be  driving  about  Melbourne 
and  entertaining  and  doing  what  you  pleased  whilst 
he  was  a  thousand  miles  off  counting  his  sheep." 

"  Suppose  all  the  rich  squatters  kept  themselves  a 
thousand  miles  distant  whilst  I  was  in  Melbourne, 
could  I  return  in  this  ship  ?  " 

She  asked  this  question  placidly,  but  her  expres- 
sion showed  that  she  did  not  appreciate  this  reference 
to  the  squatters. 

"  You  want  position  and  you'll  get  it." 

"  Could  I  return  in  this  ship?  " 

"  We'll  see,"  he  answered,  smiling  at  her.  "  A 
dinner  and  champagne  to  the  head  of  the  firm  of 
agents  might  help  us,  and  nature  did  not  intend  that 
you  should  ever  plead  in  vain." 

As  he  said  this  the  captain  came  on  deck,  followed 
by  Sailor.  The  Newfoundland,  with  the  critical  eye 
of  an  old  salt,  took  a  view  of  the  horizon,  and  in  a 
minute  rushed  forward  on  to  the  forecastle  and  re- 


1 82  <&>  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  -^ 

ported  two  ships  in  sight  on  the  port  bow  by  a 
number  of  barks,  which  made  the  men,  who  were 
lounging  about  the  knight-heads,  laugh  heartily.  On 
seeing  the  captain,  the  mate  touched  his  cap  and 
walked  right  aft  on  the  lee-side,  where  with  folded 
arms  he  seemed  to  watch  the  sea,  though  he  kept  the 
captain  and  Julia  in  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

The  poor  man  approached  the  girl,  who  received 
him  with  a  smile. 

"  Has  Mr.  Hardy  looked  after  you  ?  "  he  said, 
kindly  and  gently. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Captain  Layard,  I  am  very  happy  and 
comfortable,  and  thank  you  over  and  over  again  for 
your  goodness.  I  believe  I  should  have  died  by  this 
time  in  that  open  boat,  and  I  owe  my  life  to  you 
and  this  noble  ship." 

"  I  am  very  dull  and  lonely,"  he  said  in  a  musing 
way,  clearly  inattentive  to  her  words.  "  Those  ships 
yonder  break  the  continuity  of  this  everlasting  circle, 
but  they'll  vanish  shortly,  and  the  full  desolation  of 
the  night  will  encompass  us.  It  is  the  night  that 
I  fear  —  it  is  the  night  that  I  fear!  "  he  continued, 
almost  whispering,  and  gazing  at  her  as  a  man  looks 
at  another  whose  pity  and  help  his  heart  is  yearning 
for.  "  I  miss  him !  If  I  dream  of  him  I  shall  go 
mad  to  find  it  a  dream.  But  you  know  where 
he  is." 

She  hoped  to  divert  his  thoughts,  and  said :  "  I  do 
not  find  the  sea  desolate,  Captain  Layard.  On  fine 
nights  I  could  stand  for  hours  looking  at  the  stars; 
and  is  desolation  on  the  sea  when  the  sun  is  shining  ? 
If  I  were  a  man  I  would  be  a  sailor,  for,  although  it 
has  nearly  destroyed  me,  I  have  learnt  to  love  the 
ocean." 


^»        The  Captain  and  the  Girl     «9»     183 

She  looked  toward  Hardy.  The  dog,  having 
barked  his  report  of  two  sail  in  sight,  came  trotting 
aft,  and  stood  beside  his  master.  The  captain  looked 
at  him  a  little  while  in  silence,  his  brow  contracted 
in  meditation. 

"  Which  is  real  ?  "  he  asked,  placing  his  foot  upon 
the  dog's  shadow,  "this  or  this?"  and  he  put  his 
hand  upon  the  dog. 

Julia,  who  found  a  necessity  to  humour  him, 
answered : 

"  Some  great  thinker  has  written,  '  Shadows  we 
are,  and  shadows  we  pursue.' ' 

"  How  long  grows  one's  shadow  in  the  dying 
sun!  "  said  Captain  Layard,  turning  his  face  —  rilled 
with  the  yearning  of  grief  and  charged  with  that 
subtle  expression  of  madness  for  which  no  words 
are  to  be  found  —  toward  the  burning  sky ;  "  and 
soon  we  are  nothing  but  shadows.  Do  you  believe  in 
God  ?  "  He  looked  at  her  suddenly  with  an  ex- 
traordinary gaze  of  passionate  anxiety. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Captain  Layard,"  replied  the  girl.  "  I 
believe  in  him  now  if  ever  I  did,  and  I  have  thanked 
him." 

His  face  put  on  its  triumphant  look,  but  he  was 
interrupted  in  the  irrelevant  sentiments  he  was  about 
to  deliver  by  the  approach  of  the  boatswain. 

Julia  crossed  the  deck  to  Hardy,  glad  to  escape 
the  pain  of  such  talk. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  the  captain. 

"  The  men  we  picked  up,"  answered  the  boat- 
swain, "  have  asked  me  to  come  aft  to  say  they're 
willing  to  serve  as  seamen  aboard  this  ship." 

"  You  are  a  full  company,"  replied  the  captain, 
quickly.  "  I  can't  afford  to  pay  and  keep  more 
sailors." 


1 84  «*»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  49* 

"  They're  likely  men,  sir,"  said  the  boatswain, 
speaking  in  a  softened  note  of  respectful  compas- 
sion. 

"  They'll  expect  their  wages." 

The  boatswain  answered  he  thought  that  was 
likely. 

"  No,"  said  the  captain,  "  we'll  transship  them, 
and  send  them  home." 

He  rounded  on  his  heel,  and  sat  upon  the  skylight, 
and  gazed  at  the  dying  lights  in  the  west.  What 
could  be  more  sane  than  this  man's  answers  to  the 
boatswain?  Hardy  had  overheard  them,  and  per- 
plexity was  deepened  in  him.  Who  was  going  to 
convince  the  sailors  that  their  captain  was  mad 
unless  he  talked  to  them  as  he  did  to  him  and  Julia  ? 
And  the  captain  sat  looking  at  the  dimming  glory, 
and  did  not  seem  to  remember  that  he  had  been 
conversing  with  the  girl,  or  to  know  that  she  had 
left  him. 

It  was  fine  weather  throughout  that  night,  and  the 
moon  shone,  and  the  heaven  of  stars  swarmed  in 
sparkling  hosts  toward  the  grave  of  the  sun  until 
the  pallor  of  the  dawn,  like  the  face  of  the  risen 
Christ,  put  out  those  fires  of  the  dark;  the  ship, 
bathed  in  the  ice-white  radiance,  stole  phantom-like 
over  the  boundless  cemetery  of  the  drowned,  the 
perished  sailors  whose  tombstones  were  in  every 
breaking  surge.  All  had  been  quiet  aboard  that 
stealing  ship,  clad  to  her  trucks  in  the  raiment  of 
her  day.  The  captain  would  pass  a  long  time  in  his 
cabin,  then  appear  on  deck,  and  walk  it  for  a  little 
space  self-engrossed ;  and  it  seemed  to  Hardy  when 
his  watch  came  round,  and  when  the  captain  showed 
himself,  that  the  man's  isolation  and  silence  ex- 


«f»        The  Captain  and  the  Girl     «$»     185 

pressed,  perhaps,  a  still  dim  but  growing  perception 
of  the  fate  of  his  little  boy,  in  which  case  the  delu- 
sion would  leave  him,  and  his  mind  recover  at  least 
the  strength  it  possessed  when  they  made  sail  in  the 
English  Channel. 

When  the  sun  rose  the  ocean  rolled  in  mackerel- 
tinted  mounds,  and  the  ship  swayed  as  she  floated 
onwards  at  about  five  knots.  Stu'nsails  had  been 
set  by  order  of  the  captain  when  he  came  on  deck  at 
dawn,  and,  whitening  the  air  on  high,  the  swelling 
cloths  carried  the  sight  to  the  heavens,  which  arched 
in  a  miracle  of  motionless  feathers  of  cloud,  a  glori- 
ous canopy  of  delicate  plumes,  in  sweet  keeping 
with  the  airy  graces  of  the  queenly  fabric  which 
proudly  bowed  upon  its  mighty  throne. 

A  sail  was  in  sight  on  the  starboard  bow,  and  in 
two  hours  she  would  be  abreast.  The  Newfound- 
land, coming  on  deck  with  the  captain  when  the 
light  broke,  instantly  barked  its  report  of  her,  and 
now,  a  little  after  eight,  Hardy  was  viewing  her 
through  the  ship's  telescope;  for  the  sane  instruc- 
tions which  had  reached  him  were,  that  the  four 
men  were  to  be  transferred  to  the  first  ship  which 
would  receive  them. 

The  four  men  were  on  the  forecastle  watching  the 
coming  vessel;  they  were  good  specimens  of  the 
English  seaman  of  those  days,  sturdy  and  whis- 
kered, bronzed  in  face  and  bowed  in  back,  with  that 
steady  air  which  made  you  know  that,  like  most 
British  sailors,  they  were  to  be  trusted  beyond  all 
breeds  of  foreign  mariners  in  the  hour  of  sea  peril, 
when  the  ship  was  grinding  out  her  heart  upon  the 
rocks,  when  the  belching  hatches  were  blackening 
the  air  into  a  storm  cloud,  when  the  blow  of  the 


1 86  ^  The   Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  -^ 

stranger's  bows  had  riven  the  side  into  a  gulf,  when 
the  yawn  of  the  started  butt  was  burdening  the  hold 
with  tons  of  ship-drowning  brine. 

When  the  ships  were  abreast,  the  stranger  proved 
American,  bound  for  the  River  Thames.  The  beau- 
tiful flag  of  her  great  country  shook  its  barred  folds 
at  the  peak,  and  you  thought  of  Bishop's  Berkeley's 
prophetic  line,  "  Westward  the  course  of  empire 
takes  its  way."  Her  yellow  sheathing  flashed  in 
artillery  spoutings  as  she  rolled  from  the  sun,  her 
canvas  with  cotton  was  as  white  as  milk,  she  was  a 
wonder  of  sea  architecture,  the  creation  of  a  people 
whose  sires  had  launched  that  exquisite  structure, 
the  Baltimore  clipper. 

Captain  Layard  was  now  on  deck,  and  Hardy 
must  discover  that  in  matters  of  routine  he  was  not 
going  to  work  with  the  diseased  half  of  his  head. 
He  hailed  the  American  captain,  and  they  exchanged 
the  information  they  asked. 

"  What  ship  is  that  ?  Where  are  you  from,  and 
where  are  you  bound  to?  " 

And  the  American  wanted  to  know  the  Greenwich 
time  by  the  chronometers  in  Captain  Layard's  cabin. 

Then  was  shouted  across  in  words  as  sane  as  ever 
sounded  from  a  quarter-deck  the  news  of  the  re- 
covery of  four  men  from  an  open  boat,  and  would 
the  American  captain  carry  them  home  ?  Of  course 
he  would,  and  within  half  an  hour  from  the  begin- 
ning of  this  rencounter  the  two  ships  had  started  on 
their  separate  courses  with  colours  dipping  in  cordial 
good-byes  —  the  seaman's  hand-shake.  And  these 
were  cousins. 


CHAPTER    XI. 
THE  CAPTAIN'S  BIRTHDAY 

Now  in  this  business  of  transferring  the  four 
men  Hardy  noticed  that  the  captain  made  no 
reference  to  Miss  Armstrong.  Another  captain 
would  have  asked  her  if  she  wished  to  go  home : 
perhaps,  indeed,  would  have  sent  her  home  without 
asking  her.  Was  it  because  Captain  Layard  knew 
she  had  no  home?  Hardy  hoped  it  might  be  that, 
but  suspected  it  was  not  so.  This  ship  wanted  no 
stewardess;  the  girl  was  one  more  to  feed,  and 
owners  do  not  love  liberality  in  their  captains.  In 
short,  the  mate  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
captain's  benevolence  in  keeping  the  girl  and  giving 
her  a  passage  to  Australia  for  nothing  was  due  to 
hallucination,  and  the  thought  was  uneasiness  itself 
both  for  Julia's  sake  and  the  ship's. 

It  was  the  day  following  the  transshipment  of  the 
men  that  he  found  an  opportunity  during  the  cap- 
tain's absence  to  take  a  turn  with  the  girl  and  talk  to 
her.  The  sun  was  shining  a  little  hotly,  and  the 
clouds  were  sailing  fast.  Each  round  of  swell,  as  it 
came  under-running  the  ship  out  of  the  northeast, 
was  ridged  and  wrinkled  with  arches  of  foam,  and 
the  day  was  alive  with  the  music  in  the  rigging,  with 

187 


1 88  «9»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <& 

the  speckled  wings  of  sea-birds  in  the  wake,  and  the 
smoke-like  shadow  of  vapour  floating  through  the 
sunshine  on  the  water. 

After  the  couple  had  talked  a  little,  Hardy  said : 

"  How  does  the  captain  treat  you  ?  " 

"  Very  kindly,"  she  answered. 

"  I  keep  an  eye  upon  him,"  he  said,  "  but  it  will 
not  do  to  seem  to  hang  near  when  he  is  talking  to 
you.  He  might  round  and  become  fierce,  for  from 
madness  you  may  expect  anything.  What  is  his 
talk  about?" 

"  Chiefly  his  lost  child." 

A  seaman  who  was  in  the  main-rigging  putting  a 
fresh  seizing  to  a  ratline  looked  at  the  girl,  and 
thought  deep  in  himself,  Oh,  lovey,  what  a  figure! 
But  what  that  whiskered  heart  admired  most  was 
the  coquettish  cock  of  her  head,  the  grace  of  one 
hand  upon  her  hip,  the  charm  of  her  motions  as  she 
walked,  her  posture  when  she  turned  aft  or  forward 
on  the  return  that  was  like  a  pause  in  some  sweet 
dancer's  movements.  Yes,  Jack  can  keep  a  bright 
lookout  when  a  girl  heaves  in  sight,  but  the  mighty 
Charles  Dickens  is  right  in  holding  that  Jack's  Nan 
is  often  the  unloveliest  of  the  fair. 

"  Does  he  go  on  thinking  that  you.  know  where  his 
child  is  ?  "  said  Hardy. 

"  Yes.  It  is  a  fixed  delusion,  though  I  cannot 
humour  it  —  it  is  too  sad  —  in  spite  of  your  wish." 

"  The  oddest  part  to  me,"  said  Hardy,  "  is  the 
reason  he  shows  in  his  professional  work.  He 
doesn't  confound  things;  the  sail  he  talks  of  is  the 
sail  it  is;  he  still  knows  the  ropes.  The  flicker  of 
the  leach  of  a  topgallantsail  will  set  him  wanting  a 
small  pull  on  the  leebrace." 


The  Captain's  Birthday 


"How  does  he  manage  with  the  navigation?" 
asked  the  girl. 

"  He  works  it  out  as  I  do.  He  finds  the  ship's 
position  to  a  second.  This  may  be  the  effect  of 
habit,  but  is  not  custom  beaten  into  rags  by  insanity, 
like  the  head  of  an  old  drum?  It's  not  so  in  this 
case,  and  the  crew  mayn't  find  him  out  till  the  pilot 
boards  us,  and  guess  nothing  until  they  hear  that  the 
doctors  have  locked  him  up." 

"  Then  what  does  his  madness  signify?  "  said  the 
girl.  "  He'll  be  as  good  as  the  sanest  if  we  arrive 
safely." 

"Ah,  but  it's  the  getting  there!  It's  the  what 
may  happen  to-morrow,  or  to-morrow,  or  to-mor- 
row, and  that  is  going  to  make  my  hair  gray,  Miss 
Armstrong." 

"  Call  me  Julia,"  she  said,  looking  at  him  with  a 
sudden  light  in  her  eyes. 

"Why  should  I  take  that  liberty?"  he  replied, 
smiling. 

"  Because  I  should  love  it,"  she  answered. 

"  I'll  not  call  you  Julia  before  him,"  he  exclaimed, 
with  a  note  of  fondness  which  brought  a  charming 
expression  into  her  face,  as  the  kisses  of  a  shower 
freshen  the  perfume  of  the  rose.  "  It  must  be  a  stiff 
Miss  Armstrong  or  I  am  no  mate,"  and  then  they 
fell  to  talking  a  little  nonsense. 

A  day  came,  and  it  was  the  fifth  day  dating  from 
the  drowning  of  the  little  drummer,  and  it  was  a 
Friday,  in  all  tradition  a  black  day  for  the  sailor; 
and  nobody,  I  think,  has  taken  notice  that  it  was 
Friday  when  Nelson,  full  of  instinctive  assurance 
that  he  would  never  return  alive,  kissed  his  sleeping 
child  and  started  to  join  his  ship  for  Trafalgar. 


190  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$> 

The  captain,  Miss  Armstrong,  and  Mr.  Hardy  sat 
at  breakfast.  The  ship  had  made  good  way;  not 
many  parallels  lay  between  her  and  the  northern 
verge  of  the  tropics.  The  sun  poured  his  light  in 
fire,  and  the  flying-fish  sparkled  under  the  bows. 

The  sailors  had  noticed  nothing  in  the  captain  to 
set  them  growling  suspicion  into  one  another's  ears 
with  askant  looks  aft.  If  Mr.  Candy,  who  lived 
close  to  the  skipper,  had  taken  any  sort  of  altitude  of 
the  poor  man's  mind,  he  kept  his  observation  secret ; 
or  it  might  be  that  he  believed  the  captain  was  a 
little  upset  by  the  loss  of  his  child,  and  he  had  not 
the  penetrating  sagacity  of  Hardy. 

The  wind  had  fallen  light,  and  the  motions  of  the 
ship  were  as  easy  as  a  swimmer's.  Hardy  had 
noticed  in  the  captain's  face  when  they  met  that 
morning  an  expression  of  lofty  triumph,  of  subli- 
mated self-complacency  such  as  a  man  deranged  by 
conquest  and  acclamation  might  wear  as  he  passes 
slowly  through  the  huzzaing  crowds.  He  seemed 
self-crowned,  and  might  have  reminded  a  better 
student  than  Hardy  of  one  of  Nat  Lee's  heaven- 
defying  stage-kings. 

"  To-day  is  Friday,"  said  the  captain,  addressing 
Miss  Armstrong,  "  and  what  day  do  you  think  it 
is?" 

Julia  thought  awhile,  for  she  fancied  he  meant 
something  in  the  almanac. 

"  I  don't  know,  captain,"  she  answered. 

"It  is  my  birthday,"  said  the  captain,  "and  Johnny 
is  waiting  somewhere  to  kiss  me." 

Hardy  was  about  to  deliver  with  all  the  respect 
of  a  mate  a  sentence  of  congratulation,  but  the 
closing  words  of  the  captain  silenced  him. 


+         The  Captain's  Birthday      *+      191 

"  I  wish  you  many  happy  returns  of  the  day,"  said 
Julia. 

"You  might  like  to  know  how  old  I  am,"  said 
the  captain,  with  an  indescribable  look  at  the  girl, 
"  but  every  man  should  respect  the  secret  of  his 
birth.  Until  we  come  to  sixty  we  like  to  be  thought 
much  younger,  and  when  we  come  to  eighty  we  tell 
lies  that  our  friends  may  think  us  ninety.  I  have 
good  reason  to  congratulate  myself  upon  my  birth- 
day. I  cannot  believe  that  the  Red  Ensign  ever 
floated  over  a  better  seaman  than  I,  a  man  who  is 
both  a  gentleman  and  a  sailor,  and  it  has  been  my 
privilege,"  he  continued,  talking  as  though  he  was 
making  an  after-dinner  speech,  "  to  have  dignified 
by  my  behaviour  and  breeding  a  service  that  in 
public  opinion  is  in  want  of  dignity." 

Hardy  burst  into  a  laugh;  he  could  not  help  it, 
but  he  instantly  apologised  by  saying  that  the  cap- 
tain's words  made  him  think  of  the  first  skipper  he 
sailed  with,  betwixt  whose  legs,  as  he  stood,  you 
could  have  fitted  an  oval  picture,  and  whose  face  for 
beauty  might  have  been  picked  out  of  the  harness 
cask. 

The  captain  with  a  slight  frown  cast  his  eyes  upon 
the  mate,  and  said,  "  Johnny  shall  be  a  sailor.  His 
mother  would  have  desired  him  to  serve  the  queen 
at  sea,  but  he  shall  perpetuate  me  under  the  flag  I 
serve." 

This  was  followed  by  a  short  silence;  the  others 
found  nothing  to  say.  It  was  perhaps  one  of  the 
saddest  illustrations  of  madness  on  record,  and  it 
set  the  listeners'  hearts  pining  to  do  something  that 
was  denied  to  their  sympathy  and  distress. 

"  The  men  shall  have  a  holiday,"  said  the  captain, 


192  «f»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «*» 

who  was  scarcely  eating.  "It  is  my  birthday,  and 
they  shall  drink  my  health  at  eight  bells.  You 
will  drink  my  health,  Mr.  Hardy,  and  you,  Miss 
Armstrong  ?  " 

They  answered  that  they  would  drink  his  health 
with  the  greatest  pleasure. 

"  You  and  Mr.  Candy  in  rum,  Mr.  Hardy ;  you'll 
drink  with  the  men,  for  I  like  the  officers  of  my  ship 
to  be  associated  with  the  crew  on  festive  occasions." 

"  I  will  gladly  drink  with  the  men,  sir,"  responded 
Hardy. 

"  Rum  is  not  a  fit  drink  for  young  ladies,"  con- 
tinued the  captain,  with  a  faint  smile,  "and  you,  Miss 
Armstrong,  will  drink  my  health  in  claret  —  a  wine 
which  shall  not  hurt  you,  because  'tis  light  and  old 
and  nourishing." 

Julia  bowed.  Hardy  was  wondering  what  the 
men  would  think,  but  if  they  thought  this  unusual 
deviation  from  sea  routine  odd,  they  would  certainly 
like  it  and  hope  for  more.  It  was  an  exhibition  of 
insane  generosity,  of  lunatic  kindness,  and  the  mate 
could  see  nothing  else  in  it. 

In  obedience  to  the  captain's  instructions  he  went 
on  deck,  sending  Candy  below  to  his  breakfast,  and 
called  the  boatswain  aft. 

"  It's  the  captain's  orders,"  said  he,  "  that  the  men 
shall  knock  off  work  all  day." 

The  boatswain  stared.     "  All  day,  sir  ?  "  he  said. 

"  It's  his  birthday,"  answered  Hardy.  "  And  all 
hands  will  drink  his  health  in  good  Jamaica  rum 
at  eight  bells,  served  out  on  the  capstan  head." 

Innumerable  wrinkles  overran  the  boatswain's  face 
as  grin  after  grin  rippled  about  his  gale-hardened 
skin.  He  looked  as  if  he  would  like  to  say  that 


*f»         The  Captain's  Birthday      «f»      193 

here  was  a  traverse  that  beat  all  his  going  a-fishing. 
But  the  immense  pleasure  that  beamed  in  his  ex- 
pression was  full  assurance  of  the  reception  the  crew 
would  give  the  news. 

He  walked  slowly  forward,  and  the  men  wondered 
at  his  deep  and  constant  grin.  "  One  of  the  mate's 
stories,  I  reckon,"  thought  Bill,  and  Jim  also  thought 
that  some  joke  of  the  mate  had  started  the  boatswain 
on  that  smile.  When  he  reached  the  forecastle  the 
boatswain  put  his  silver  whistle  to  his  lips  and  blew 
the  shrill  music  of  "  All  hands !  "  and  a  hundred 
little  birds  of  the  groves  and  woods  seemed  to  be 
perched  in  song  upon  the  yards  and  rigging. 

The  fellows  who  were  below  came  tumbling  up, 
startled  by  that  call  in  fine  weather.  In  a  very  little 
time  the  whole  of  the  crew  had  gathered  round  their 
forecastle  leader,  who,  after  clearing  his  throat  and 
gazing  about  him  with  his  profound  smile,  said : 

"  Lads,  it's  the  capt'n's  birthday,  and  it's  to  be  a 
holiday  for  you  all  right  away  through,  with  liquor 
at  noon  to  drink  his  health  in." 

Sailors  are  usually  so  badly  treated  by  all  variety 
of  shipowners'  sullen  deafness  to  their  grievances, 
that  when  on  rare  occasions,  sometimes  originating 
in  madness,  they  are  well  treated,  their  astonishment 
is  a  phenomenon  of  emotion.  It  seems  unnatural, 
they  think.  A  beautiful  mermaid  with  a  gilded  tail 
and  flowing  hair  of  bronze,  with  her  white  revealed 
charms  made  entrancing  by  the  soft  blue  of  the 
water,  could  not  amaze  them  more  than  a  skipper's 
kindness  taking  the  form  of  Layard's. 

A  brief  spell  of  silence  fell  upon  them  as  they 
looked  at  one  another  and  at  the  boatswain. 

"  Ain't  yer  coddin'  us  ?  "  said  a  man. 


194  *$*  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <Q> 

"  Fill  your  pipes,  and  go  a-courting,"  answered 
the  boatswain.  "  I'm  for  taking  advantage  of  it 
when  it  comes,  which  ain't  ever  too  soon  or  often." 

This  convinced  the  crew,  who  delivered  a  loud 
cheer,  and  then  began  to  talk  and  scatter,  all  of 
them  feeling  a  bit  aimless,  for  it  wasn't  like  going 
ashore. 

Hardy,  who  was  keeping  the  deck  whilst  Candy 
breakfasted,  watched  the  proceedings  on  the  fore- 
castle, and  wondered  if  this  stroke  of  the  captain 
was  going  to  give  them  any  idea  of  the  truth.  But 
why  should  it?  If  they  suspected,  through  this  act 
of  kindness,  that  the  boy's  loss  had  shifted  the  "  old 
man's  "  ballast,  they  would  only  hope  that  a  long 
time  would  pass  before  his  mental  cargo  was 
trimmed  afresh.  But  in  truth  they  did  not  know 
that  their  captain  was  insane,  and  even  Candy,  who 
was  below  sitting  at  the  table  and  listening  to  the 
skipper  conversing  with  Miss  Armstrong,  would  not 
have  kissed  the  Book  upon  it. 

Presently  Mr.  Candy  came  on  deck,  but  Hardy, 
whose  watch  below  it  was,  thought  he  would  stay 
a  little  and  talk  to  Miss  Armstrong,  and  observe  the 
captain  if  he  should  appear.  Very  soon  after  Mr. 
Candy  arrived  Julia  rose  lightly  through  the  com- 
panion-hatch. She  was  now  looking  quite  well, 
better  indeed  than  she  looked  when  Hardy  first  met 
her.  Again  he  found  himself  admiring  her  faultless 
figure  and  the  pose  of  her  head,  enchanting  through 
its  unconsciousness. 

"  Where  is  the  captain  ?  "  he  asked  her. 

"  I  left  him  at  the  table,"  she  replied.  "  He  was 
not  in  the  cabin  when  I  came  out  of  my  berth." 

"  I  hope  it  won't  end  in  his  destroying  himself," 


*f»         The  Captain's  Birthday      «$»      195 

exclaimed  Hardy.  "  There  is  a  great  deal  of  good- 
ness and  humanity  in  the  poor  fellow's  heart,  and 
it's  dreadful  to  see  a  man  struggling  to  conquer  his 
brain's  disease.  Who  can  tell  what  passes  in  the 
minds  of  such  people?  But  what  am  I  to  do?  He 
is  Prime  Minister  aboard  this  ship,  and  those  are  the 
people,"  said  he,  nodding  toward  the  crew,  "  who 
must  turn  him  out." 

"Have  you  told  them  they  are  to  have  a  holiday?" 
she  asked. 

"  Don't  they  look  like  it?  "  he  replied. 

"  How'll  they  spend  it?"  she  inquired. 

"  In  loafing  and  smoking  and  sleeping.  If  the 
captain's  liberal  with  his  grog  —  Well,  the  drum- 
mer's gone  out  of  their  heads  —  'tis  the  way  of  the 
sea  :  a  bubble  over  the  side,  a  broken  pipe  in  a  vacant 
bunk,  and  the  ship  sails  on.  They  may  dance  and 
sing  songs;  and  I  hope  they  will,  for  God  knows 
the  captain  is  depressing  enough,  and  I  like  to  see 
the  hornpipe  danced." 

Meanwhile  where  was  Captain  Layard?  He  was 
in  his  cabin  seated  close  to  the  medicine-chest,  which 
stood  open,  and  reading  a  thin  volume  all  about 
poisons,  and  the  quantities  to  be  administered  when 
given  for  sickness.  His  great  dog  lay  beside  him. 
He  read  with  a  knitted  brow,  and  sometimes  sank 
the  volume  to  lift  with  his  right  hand  some  bottle 
of  poison  out  of  its  little  square  place.  He  would 
look  at  it  and  then  refer -to  the  book. 

In  this  singular  study,  fearful. with  the  menace  of 
the  light  in  his  eyes,  tragically  portentous  with  the 
lifting  look  of  triumph  and  the  insane  smile,  he  spent 
about  half  an  hour,  and  then  closing  the  lid  of  the 
medicine-chest,  he  stood  up  and  looked  at  the  drum, 


196  «$»  The   Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «g» 

and  softly  wrung  his  hands  with  a  heart-moving 
expression,  whose  appeal  lay  in  the  soul's  perception 
seeking  to  pierce  in  vain  the  torturing  and  bewilder- 
ing veil  of  disease;  for  it  is  not  the  immortal  soul 
of  man  which  is  mad  in  madness,  and  this  belief 
is  God-sent;  the  soil  buries  and  resolves  to  ashes 
the  mania  that  destroys,  and  the  purified  soul  is 
liberated  to  await  the  judgment  of  God  —  its  Home. 

After  a  few  minutes  he  stepped  into  the  cabin 
and  called  the  attendant,  who  was  handling  crockery 
and  glasses  in  the  pantry.  The  fellow  stepped  out. 

"  Jump  below  into  the  lazarette,"  said  the  captain, 
"  and  draw  a  bucket  of  rum.  I  want  plenty.  This 
is  my  birthday,  and  all  hands  will  drink  my  health." 

The  man  was  not  at  all  astonished;  he  had  got 
the  news  from  the  forecastle.  He  was  a  sort  of 
steward,  and  knew  the  ropes  in  the  lazarette.  The 
little  hatch  was  just  abaft  the  captain's  chair,  and 
was  opened  by  an  iron  ring.  The  man  accepted  the 
captain's  orders  literally,  disappeared,  and  returned 
with  a  clean,  big  bucket. 

The  lazarette  is  an  after-hold,  a  compartment  of 
a  ship  in  which  in  those  times  all  sorts  of  commodi- 
ties used  to  be  stowed,  chiefly  edible,  and  for  cabin 
use.  The  man  lifted  the  hatch-cover  —  the  hatch1 
was  no  more  than  a  man-hole  —  and  by  help  of 
the  light,  which  shone  down  upon  a  cask  that  was 
almost  immediately  under,  pumped  the  bucket  nearly 
full. 

The  captain  went  to  the  hatch  and  looked  down, 
and  exclaimed: 

"Hand  it  up;  I'll  help  you."  He  received  the 
bucket  and  placed  it  on  the  deck,  and  the  man 
sprang  through  the  hatch  and  replaced  the  cover. 

* 


«$»          The  Captain's   Birthday      «$»       197 

"  Take  it  into  my  cabin,"  said  the  captain,  "  and 
bring  it  on  deck  when  I  send  you  for  it." 

And  this  was  done,  and  the  man  went  on  deck 
whilst  the  captain  entered  his  berth  and  closed  the 
door. 

"  I  have  drawed  enough  to  swim  ye,"  said  the 
cabin-attendant  to  Bill. 

"  'Tain't  like  being  in  port,  though,"  answered 
Bill,  whilst  Jim  and  several  others  like  him  grinned 
at  the  news  of  the  grog.  "  When  I  takes  a  drop, 
I'm  for  dancin',  and  where  are  the  gurls?" 

"  Ah !  "  echoed  Jim  in  a  sigh  born  of  lobscouse 
and  the  livid  fat  of  diseased  pork. 

Finding  that  the  captain  did  not  make  his  ap- 
pearance, Hardy  kept  the  deck  with  Julia.  Again 
they  talked  of  the  old  home,  the  drunken  stepmother, 
the  withering  indifference  of  the  retired  Commander 
R.  N.  to  the  loneliness  and  helplessness  of  his  child, 
and  to  her  prospects  in  life. 

Hardy  spoke  of  it  with  heat,  and  the  girl's  face 
was  often  hot  with  the  passion  of  memory. 

"  What  should  I  have  done  without  you  ?  "  she 
said  once  and  again,  and  still  again.  "  But  if  I 
cannot  find  employment  in  Australia,  I  must  return 
in  this  ship,"  and  she  looked  at  him  with  the  eyes 
of  a  sweetheart. 

"  If  anything  happens  to  Captain  Layard,"  said 
he,  "  no  doubt  I  shall  get  command." 

Now,  "  If  anything  should  happen  "  is  the  round- 
about of  "  If  he  should  die/'  and  people  modestly 
thus  speak  of  death  as  though  it  was  anything,  as 
though  it  was  not  the  only  thing  that  is  real,  to  be 
expected  without  fear  of  disappointment. 

"  I  believe  he  will  grow  quite  mad  long  before  we 


198  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

arrive  at  Melbourne,"  said  Julia;  "but  even  taking 
him  as  he  is,  would  the  agents  trust  him  ?  " 

"  You  want  to  come  home  in  this  ship,  Julia?  " 
said  Hardy. 

"  You  are  the  only  friend  I  have  in  the  world," 
she  answered ;  and  thus  they  cooed  without  billing, 
for  Jack  was  in  strength  forward,  and  the  second 
mate  walked  the  deck  to  windward,  and  a  sailor 
stood  at  the  wheel. 

About  a  quarter  before  noon,  but  not  till  then,  the 
captain  emerged  with  his  sextant.  If  he  had  come 
up  with  a  face  of  madness,  the  sextant  he  held  would 
have  clothed  him  with  all  the  sanity  he  needed  in 
the  sailors'  opinion.  But  his  face  showed  no  dis- 
tinctive marks  of  the  condition  of  his  mind,  the 
expression  was  even  calm;  he  seemed  as  one  who 
was  about  to  realise  the  consuming  hope  of  his  life; 
the  shadow  of  the  coming  event  subdued  him.  The 
crew  were  on  deck  gathered  forward  in  all  variety  of 
sprawling  posture,  smoking  and  talking,  with  teeth 
sharpened  by  the  hard  and  bitter  fare  of  the  sea. 
Also  seven  bells  having  been  struck  some  time  since, 
they  knew  that  noon  and  a  bumper  of  old  Jamaica 
were  at  hand,  and  every  eye  was  directed  aft. 

Hardy  disappeared  and  returned  with  his  sextant, 
and  Candy  fetched  his,  and  the  three  men  fell  to 
screwing  down  the  sun  till  its  lower  limb  was  like 
a  wheel  upon  the  ocean  line.  The  captain  never 
spoke,  and  Julia  studying  his  face  noticed  the  sub- 
dued look  and  the  calmness,  and  felt  a  little  despair- 
ful, for,  poor  heart,  she  was  in  love,  and  wanted  the 
captain  to  go  raving  mad  that  Hardy  might  get 
command  and  marry  her  at  Melbourne,  and  bring 
her  home.  O  God,  what  joy  for  a  heart  so  long 


«$»         The  Captain's  Birthday      «$*      199 

joyless !  A  home,  a  protector,  a,  husband,  on  whose 
breast  she  could  lean  with  her  lips  at  his  ear  in 
softest  murmurings  of  wifely  confidence. 

"  Eight  bells !  Make  it  the  bell  eight !  "  and  the 
four  double  chimes  rang  gladly  along  the  decks  and 
up  aloft. 

"  Pass  the  word  for  the  cabin  servant,"  said  the 
captain,  speaking  and  looking  as  collectedly  as  the 
sanest  of  skippers  might  show  in  that  first  command 
of  tacking,  "  Ready  about !  " 

The  man  came  aft  in  a  hurry,  impelled  by  the 
thirsty  yearning  of  the  forecastle  mob,  and  in  a 
couple  or  three  minutes  he  was  standing  at  the  cap- 
stan just  abaft  the  mast  with  a  bucket  on  the  "  head," 
and  a  tot  measure  in  his  hand.  The  captain  stood 
close  to  the  man,  and  the  crew  gathered  around. 
The  Newfoundland  stood  at  his  master's  side.  Now 
was  to  be  seen  the  most  glowing  canvas  in  the  pano- 
rama which  unfolds  this  ship's  adventure.  The 
picture  was  alive  with  its  crowd  of  faces  of  seamen 
watching  the  lips  of  their  commander,  alive  with  the 
colour  and  diversity  of  their  apparel,  with  the  silent 
breathing  of  the  white  breast  soaring  to  the  height 
of  the  fiery  streak  of  bunting,  which  trembled  in  a 
dog-vane  from  the  main-royal  truck.  The  sea  was 
soft  in  caress  and  note,  and  Julia  thought  of  the 
wayside  fountain  to  which  she  as  well  as  Hardy  had 
listened  in  the  night,  when,  in  the  pause,  she  heard 
the  fall  of  the  shower  under  the  bow. 

"My  lads,"  began  the  captain,  and  Hardy  watched 
him  with  strained  attention,  believing  that  the  crew 
would  see  it,  "  this  is  my  birthday,  and  I  am  depart- 
ing from  the  custom  of  the  sea  in  making  a  general 
holiday  of  it." 


2oo  <4*  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

He  grew  pale  and  paler  as  he  spoke,  but  his  voice 
did  not  falter,  and  no  change  was  visible  in  his 
expression  save  that  a  light  as  of  secret  exultation 
brightened  his  eye  and  accentuated  his  pallor. 

"  I  have  always  tried  to  make  a  good  master  to 
my  men,  and  to  treat  them  like  men  and  sailors,  and 
not  as  dogs  which  other  captains  seem  to  find  them." 

This  was  attended  by  a  growl  of  appreciation. 

"  So,  my  lads,"  continued  the  captain,  "  as  this  is 
my  birthday,  one  and  all  of  you,  the  mates,  and  the 
lady  last,  but  not  least,  shall  drink  my  health,  and 
the  health  of  the  little  boy  who  has  left  his  drum 
behind  him." 

"  May  God  bless  you  and  him ! "  said  one  of  the 
men,  for  this  proved  to  be  one  of  those  touches  of 
nature  which  made  all  those  rough  hearts  akin. 

"  Now  serve  out  —  serve  out,  and  handsomely !  " 

The  boatswain  drank  first.  And  again  and  again 
and  again  the  measure  was  filled  until  all  hands  of 
the  sailors,  saving  the  man  at  the  wheel,  had  swal- 
lowed the  fiery  draught,  many  with  a  smack  and  a 
smile  of  relish.  Then  the  wheel  was  relieved,  and 
another  bumper  was  swallowed  with  a  "  Many  'appy 
returns  of  the  day,  sir." 

"  Drink,"  said  the  captain  to  the  attendant,  and 
the  man  drained  a  full  dose. 

"  Sweeten  the  measure  for  the  two  mates,"  said 
the  captain. 

This  was  quickly  done.  And  then  Hardy  drank 
and  then  Candy,  for  both  had  the  throats  of  the  sea, 
which  seem  lined  with  brass  when  'tis  ten  per  cent, 
above  proof.  "  Your  health,  sir  "  —  and  —  "  your 
health,  sir,"  and  the  mates  took  it  down. 

"  Now,    Miss   Armstrong,    you    will    drink   my 


<&         The  Captain's  Birthday      «*>      2O1 

health,"  said  the  captain,  and  with  the  gallantry  of 
an  old  beau  he  took  her  by  the  hand  and  led  her  into 
the  cabin.  She  glanced  at  Hardy  with  a  smile  before 
she  vanished. 

The  men  scattered  as  they  went  forward  to  get 
their  dinner.  The  captain  took  a  wine-glass  from 
a  rack,  and  a  bottle  from  a  locker,  and  filled  the 
glass  with  red  wine. 

"  Drink  to  me  and  to  the  boy  I  am  seeking,  and 
then  tell  me  where  he  is,"  he  exclaimed  as  he  ex- 
tended the  glass.  She  took  it,  and  said  with  forced 
cheerfulness  to  humour  him  : 

"  Your  health,  Captain  Layard,  and  many  happy 
returns  of  this  day,  and  my  heart's  gratitude  to  you 
for  your  kindness  to  me.  And  God  will  some  day 
show  you  where  your  child  is." 

She  drank  half  the  contents  of  the  glass.  His 
eyes  sparkled,  and  his  face  was  grotesque  with  the 
workings  of  his  dreadful  exultation. 

"  Oh,  you  must  drain  it  —  you  must  drain  it,  Miss 
Armstrong,  or  it'll  be  bad  luck  and  no  pledge." 

She  drank  the  glass  empty,  and  put  it  down  upon 
the  table.  He  gazed  at  her  with  extraordinary  in- 
tentness  as  though  he  listened  to  hear  her  words, 
then  swiftly  entered  his  cabin,  closed  and  bolted  the 
door,  and  pulling  out  a  loaded  revolver  from  under 
the  pillow  in  his  bunk,  seated  himself,  and  with  the 
weapon  upon  his  knee  in  his  grasp  sat  hearkening, 
with  his  eyes  fastened  upon  the  door. 

The  time  slowly  passed  and  still  he  continued  to 
sit,  grasping  the  pistol  upon  his  knee,  with  his  eyes 
of  madness  fixed  upon  the  door.  His  face  was  now 
revolting  with  its  look  of  burning  expectation  and 
triumph.  Suddenly  a  stream  of  sunshine  moved 


202  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

slowly,  like  a  spoke  of  a  softly  revolving  wheel,  over 
the  carpeted  deck  of  the  captain's  cabin,  and  any 
one  might  have  known  by  the  motions  of  the  ship 
that  she  was  not  under  command.  You  heard  faint, 
vague  sounds  of  trampling  above,  a  dim  noise  as  of 
a  sick  crowd  poisoned  by  vapour  and  feebly  strug- 
gling to  escape,  and  in  the  midst  of  it  the  captain's 
door  was  struck :  the  blow  was  languid  and  repeated 
three  or  four  times  only,  and  no  noise  attended  it. 

The  madman  sprang  from  his  chair  and  stood 
erect  with  the  revolver  half  raised  from  his  side, 
and  his  eyes  sparkled  in  his  face  that  was  dark  with 
murderous  intent.  Thus  he  stood  whilst  the  spoke 
of  light  through  the  port-hole  moved  gradually 
round  the  cabin  until  it  vanished,  by  which  time  all 
was  silent  without.  The  unhappy  man  resumed  his 
seat  and  former  posture,  and  thus  it  went  for  half  an 
hour  at  least;  then,  always  grasping  his  murderous 
weapon,  he  walked  like  one  in  the  chamber  of  death, 
carefully  opened  the  door,  and  peered  out. 

The  first  sight  he  witnessed  was  the  figure  of  the 
chief  mate,  Hardy,  stretched  at  its  length  and  on  its 
side  within  a  pace  or  two  of  the  threshold,  and  upon 
the  locker  on  the  port  side  of  the  table,  a  cushioned 
locker  as  comfortable  as  a  couch,  lay  the  form  of 
Julia  Armstrong;  her  right  arm  hung  down,  and 
she  lay  as  apparently  dead  as  Hardy.  The  captain 
stepped  across  the  body  of  the  mate  and  looked  with 
devouring,  sparkling  eyes  at  the  girl,  while  he  seemed 
to  listen  for  sounds  above.  Nothing  was  to  be  heard 
save  the  inner  grumbling  of  the  ship  as  she  swayed 
helpless  in  arrest.  Now  and  again  the  wheel  chains 
clanked  to  the  blow  of  the  sea  upon  the  rudder. 

The  captain  went  to  the  girl's  side  and  looked  at 


«f»         The  Captain's  Birthday      «i»      203 

her :  her  face  was  placid,  pale,  ghastly,  and  her  lips 
a  bright  red.  Thus  exactly  did  Hardy's  face  show, 
and  any  one  experienced  in  the  symptoms  of  poison- 
ing by  laudanum  or  morphia  would  have  known  that 
these  two  people  had  been  heavily  drugged,  even 
perhaps  unto  death. 

It  was  the  birthday  of  a  madman  in  search  of  his 
drowned  child,  and  they  had  drunk  his  health  and 
the  little  drummer's.  His  face  took  on  an  air  of 
hurry  and  bustle,  and,  always  gripping  his  revolver, 
he  stepped  nimbly  to  the  companion-steps  and 
mounted  them.  He  raised  his  head  just  above  the 
companion-hood  and  looked;  he  saw  that  the  man 
who  had  stood  at  the  wheel  was  lying  motionless 
beside  it.  Almost  abreast  of  the  companion  was  the 
curved  form  of  Candy,  who  seemed  to  have  been 
doubled  up  and  then  reeled  into  lifelessness.  A  few 
prostrate  forms  were  to  be  seen  forward,  in  the  waist 
and  about  the  forescuttle.  They  lay  lifeless  in  the 
sleep  or  death  of  the  drugged  draught  in  which  they 
had  pledged  their  captain.  In  the  forecastle  lay  the 
rest,  some  on  the  deck,  some  in  their  bunks,  and 
every  face  showed  as  Hardy's  and  the  girl's,  placid, 
pale,  and  ghastly,  and  the  lips  a  bright  red.  All  the 
symptoms  had  been  expended,  the  first  pleasurable 
mental  excitement,  then  the  weariness,  the  headache, 
the  intolerable  weight  of  limb,  the  spinning  and 
sickening  giddiness,  the  drowsiness,  the  stupor,  and 
now  insensibility  or  death. 

The  captain  rose  in  the  hatch  to  his  full  height 
and  stepped  on  to  the  deck,  followed  by  the  dog, 
which  went  to  Candy  and  smelt  him,  and  then  with 
a  low,  uneasy  growl  went  to  the  figure  beside  the 
wheel  and  sniffed  at  it.  With  a  dreadful  smile  of 


204  *$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «^» 

hope  and  rejoicing  the  captain  thrust  the  pistol  into 
a  side  pocket  and,  going  to  the  wheel,  put  the  helm 
hard  a-starboard,  and  secured  it  by  several  turns  of 
the  end  of  the  mainbrace. 

This  done,  always  preserving  his  horrible  ex- 
pression of  lofty  exaltation,  he  took  the  breaker  out 
of  the  bow  of  the  port  quarter-boat,  filled  it  from  the 
scuttle-butt,  and  replaced  it.  God  knows  how  he 
was  directed  in  what  he  did;  the  instincts  of  habit 
and  knowledge  must  have  governed  him.  It  is 
certain  that  he  made  his  preparations  for  departure 
with  the  sanity  of  a  healthy  brain.  His  dog  closely 
followed  him,  and  seemed  afraid.  He  then  went 
below  into  the  pantry  and  returned  with  his  arms 
full  of  food,  which  he  placed  in  the  stern-sheets 
along  with  a  tumbler  which  he  pulled  out  of  his 
pocket.  He  moved  rapidly  and  his  lips  often 
worked,  and  he'd  flash  his  gaze  along  the  decks  at 
that  memorable,  tragical  picture  of  ship  with  life- 
less figures  upon  the  planks,  with  all  her  white  can- 
vas curving  inwards,  stirless  in  the  stream  of  the 
breeze.  She  seemed  to  have  been  drugged  too,  and 
rolled  with  a  kind  of  stagger  upon  the  soft  folds  of 
the  swell. 

He  went  below  again,  the  dog  at  his  heels,  and, 
entering  his  cabin,  took  a  dog-collar  and  chain  out 
of  a  locker  and  secured  the  noble  animal  to  a  leg 
of  the  table,  which  was  cleated  and  immovable. 
When  he  had  done  this  he  pressed  his  lips  to  the 
dog's  head  and  sobbed  dryly  and  sighed,  for  the 
light  in  his  eyes  was  too  hot  a  fire  for  tears.  The 
dog  whined  and  wagged  its  tail,  and  looked  a 
hundred  questions  with  its  gentle  eyes. 

"  I  shall  bring  him  back,  I  shall  bring  him  back, 
Sailor!  "  the  captain  muttered  to  the  Newfoundland. 


«^»         The  Captain's  Birthday      «^»      205 

And  all  this  time  Hardy  lay  close  beside  the  dog 
as  dead  to  the  eye  as  any  corpse  under  the  ground. 

The  captain  went  to  the  side  of  the  girl  and  picked 
her  up  off  the  cushioned  locker  with  the  ease  of  a 
man  lifting  a  child.  With  her  motionless  form  in 
his  arms  he  gained  the  deck  and  laid  her  in  the 
boat,  passing  her  under  the  after-thwart,  so  that 
her  head  lay  low  in  the  stern-sheets.  He  sprang 
for  a  colour  in  the  flag-locker  and  placed  the  bunting 
that  was  ready  rolled  under  her  head.  She  never 
sighed,  she  never  stirred.  Not  paler  nor  calmer 
could  her  face  have  shown  on  the  pillow  of  death. 

Now  the  boat  was  to  be  lowered,  and  he  went  to 
work  thus :  he  cast  adrift  the  gripes  which  had  held 
the  boat  steady  betwixt  the  davits,  and  then  he 
slackened  the  falls  at  the  bow,  belaying  the  tackle, 
and  then  he  slackened  the  falls  at  the  stern,  belaying 
the  tackle;  and  so  by  degrees  the  boat  sank  in 
irregular  jerks  to  the  surface  of  the  water.  He 
sprang  on  to  the  bow  tackle  and  descended  with 
the  nimbleness  of  a  monkey,  with  wonderful  swift- 
ness unhooked  the  blocks,  and  the  boat  was  free. 
Next  he  stepped  the  mast  upon  which  the  sail  lay 
furled,  then  the  rudder;  then  shoved  clear  and 
hoisted  the  small  square  of  lug,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  he  was  blowing  away  gently  into  the 
boundless  blue  distance,  looking  all  about  him  with 
a  proud  but  ghastly  smile  for  a  sight  of  his  missing 
boy,  whilst  the  girl  lay  like  the  dead  in  the  bottom 
of  the  boat. 


CHAPTER   XII. 
JULIA  CALLS  "JOHNNY!" 

IT  was  about  half-past  two  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon and  the  sun  shone  hotly.  The  breeze  was  a 
pleasant  wind  for  that  boat,  and  the  captain  put  her 
dead  before  it  and  blew  onwards  into  the  boundless 
distance,  squarely  seated  at  the  amidship  helm,  with 
the  white  and  placid  face  of  the  drugged  girl  at  his 
feet. 

He  would  often  look  at  her  with  a  passionate 
eagerness,  and  then  direct  his  brilliant  eyes  over  the 
sea,  and  his  countenance  was  now  shocking  with  its 
expression  of  real  madness,  charged  with  the  ghastly 
illumination  of  his  one  maniacal  belief,  that  the  girl, 
who  was  fresh  from  the  sea  when  he  missed  his  boy, 
knew  where  he  was  and  would  take  him  to  the  child, 
and  then  they  would  return  to  the  ship,  and  once 
more  the  drum  would  rattle  and  the  whistle  awaken 
the  birds  in  the  rigging. 

Never  before  in  all  human  tradition  of  ocean  life 
had  fate  painted  upon  the  bosom  of  the  deep  a  picture 
more  wonderful  by  virtue  of  its  secret  and  tragic 
meaning.  There  would  be  nothing  in  the  mere  scene 
of  a  beautiful  clipper  ship  under  all  plain  sail,  her 
canvas  hollowing  inwards  visibly,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes  derelict;  there  would  be  nothing  in  the 

ao6 


^         Julia  Calls  "  Johnny ! "      «*»      207 

spectacle  of  a  little  open  boat  borne  onwards  by  the 
humming  heart  of  its  swelling  square  of  canvas, 
steered  by  a  lonely  figure,  the  other  being  hidden. 
It  might  be  to  a  distant  eye  the  flight  of  a  single 
survivor  from  a  floating  pest-house.  But  it  was  the 
story  of  the  thing  which  makes  it  so  extraordinary 
that  I  who  am  writing  pause  with  astonishment, 
dismayed  also  by  the  lack  of  the  exquisite  cunning  I 
need  to  submit  the  truth. 

The  girl. had  been  drugged  with  morphia,  but  in 
what  dose,  and  in  what  doses  the  men,  it  is  im- 
possible to  conjecture.  The  madman  reading  the 
book  of  directions  may  have  understood  it,  but  in- 
sanity had  rendered  memory  useless  when  it  came 
to  his  mixing  the  poison  with  the  liquor  and  the 
wine.  But  she  was  not  dead;  he  would  have  found 
that  out  if  he  had  bared  her  breast  and  put  his  ear 
to  the  white  softness.  But  would  she  die  in  that 
sleep  which  was  as  death?  for  I  believe  it  is  the 
heart's  action  that  fails  in  such  cases,  and  at  any 
moment  her  soul  might  return  to  God. 

But  he!  poor  unhappy  wretch,  if  he  understood 
what  his  mad  but  most  moving  love  for  his  child 
had  impelled  him  to  do,  his  perception  would  not 
be  as  ours.  His  heart  burned  with  desire  that  she 
should  awake  and  tell  him  in  which  direction  he 
should  steer,  for  already  the  ship  was  a  toy  astern, 
three  spires  of  ice-like  radiance  dipping  to  the  eye 
on  the  brows  of  the  blue  swell  as  the  boat  rose  and 
sank,  jewelling  the  water  with  two  foam-threaded 
lines  of  little  yeasty  bubbles. 

Would  she  ever  awaken?  How  long  would  she 
continue  in  sleep  ?  To  some  a  dose  of  morphia  pro- 
fessionally prescribed  will  yield  a  long  night's  rest 


>  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  *&> 

not  wholly  unrefreshing,  though  the  drug  is  obnox- 
ious to  the  brain,  which  in  time  it  murders.  There- 
fore she  might  sleep  into  the  early  hours  of  the 
night. 

But  these  were  not  his  speculations.  His  mind 
was  intent  on  one  object,  and  he  held  the  boat 
straight  before  the  wind,  waiting  for  her  to  look 
at  him  and  rise,  and  point  to  the  spot  where  his  boy 
was. 

It  passed  into  about  an  hour  before  sunset. 

From  time  to  time  the  captain  had  laid  his  hand 
gently  upon  the  girl's  brow,  believing  she  would 
open  her  eyes  and  speak  to  him.  He  was  like  a  child 
whose  grave  or  tragic  act  was  beyond  his  mind's 
capacity  to  understand.  He  was  painfully  haggard, 
and  sweat  drops  were  on  his  forehead  and  cheeks, 
but  the  dreadful  fire  was  always  in  his  eyes.  And 
once  he  stared  fixedly  over  the  port  bow  of  the  boat 
as  though  his  poor  brain  had  shaped  the  vision  of 
his  child :  he  stared  as  though  he  beheld  the  phan- 
tom, and  when  it  vanished  out  of  the  perfidious  cell 
which  had  created  it  he  sighed  and  frowned. 

He  took  no  heed  of  sensation ;  thirst  and  hunger 
may  have  been  his,  but  he  never  left  the  helm  to 
drink  or  eat.  At  the  hour  I  have  named  the  wester- 
ing sun  was  beginning  to  empurple  the  east,  and  he 
was  steering  toward  the  point  where  the  evening  star 
would  rise.  More  than  half  the  moon  was  hanging 
in  a  broken  shape  of  dim  pearl  over  the  boat's  bows. 
All  at  once  the  captain's  ceaseless  stare  at  the  ocean 
brought  his  eyes  to  an  object  almost  directly  ahead. 
He  was  a  sailor,  and  his  afflicted  reason  could  not 
deceive  him.  Right  ahead  and  within  half  an  hour's 
sail  —  so  low  seated  was  the  gunwale  of  that  boat 


«$»          Julia  Calls  "Johnny!"      «$»      209 

—  lay  a  small  vessel,  partly  dismasted  and  deep 
sunk.  She  was  painted  black.  Her  lower  masts 
were  white,  and  both  foresail  and  mainsail  were 
hanging,  but  the  trysail  was  stowed. 

"  He  will  be  there!  he  will  be  there!  "  cried  the 
captain  in  a  voice  that  swept  like  a  shriek  from  his 
lips,  and  as  the  words  left  him  the  girl,  with  a  long, 
strange  sigh,  opened  her  eyes  full  upon  the  wild 
nightmare  face  that  was  on  a  line  with  her  head,  for 
he  had  sprung  to  his  feet. 

"  He  is  there !  "  he  shouted  again. 

Then  looking  down  he  saw  her  watching  him,  and 
had  he  been  sane  would  have  witnessed  the  awaken- 
ing reason  in  her  darkening  into  horror.  She  tried 
to  sit  up,  but  her  body  was  heavy  as  lead. 

"  Oh,  what  is  this  ?  Where  am  I  ?  "  she  asked, 
more  in  a  mutter  than  in  clear  speech. 

"  He  is  there !  "  he  cried,  pointing  with  a  frantic 
gesture,  "  and  you  have  known  it  throughout  your 
sleep.  Look !  "  He  stooped,  put  his  hands  under 
her  arms  and  lifted  her  out  of  the  bottom  of  the 
boat  into  the  stern-sheets,  against  whose  back-board 
she  sank. 

Now  morphia  gives  you  but  sleep  if  it  does  not 
kill  you,  and  reason  with  many  is  immediately  active 
when  slumber  is  ended ;  but  the  captain's  face  alone 
would  have  sufficed  to  stimulate  the  most  sluggish 
consciousness  into  clear  perception,  and  without 
understanding  the  reason  of  it  she  grasped  her 
situation. 

She  was  alone  in  a  boat  with  the  mad  captain 
of  the  York,  and  there  was  nothing  in  sight  save  the 
everlasting  circle  of  the  sea  girdling  a  small  broken 
vessel  tpward  which  the  jboat  was  running,  for  the 


210  «f»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «*» 

captain  had  his  hand  upon  the  yoke,  and  the  little 
fabric  was  dead  before  it  once  again. 

Despair  laid  the  ice-cold  hand  of  death  upon  the 
poor  girl's  heart.  What  could  she  do  ?  What  would 
he  do? 

As  the  sun  slowly  floated  down  the  slope  he  was 
glorifying,  the  moon  brightened  her  broken  face. 
Julia's  lips  were  dry;  her  tongue  had  the  rasp  of  a 
cat's  upon  the  roof  of  her  mouth. 

"  Is  there  water  here  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes.  You  shall  have  water.  Put  your  hand 
upon  this.  What  sha'n't  you  have  who  have  helped 
me  to  find  him !  " 

She  extended  her  hand  and  held  the  yoke  steady, 
and  he  went  into  the  bows  with  the  glass  and  filled 
it  from  the  breaker,  all  as  sensibly  as  though  he  was 
right  in  mind;  but  he  stood  two  or  three  moments 
to  look  at  the  vessel  they  were  nearing  and  talk  to 
her. 

She  drank  with  the  thirst  of  fever,  and  then 
perfect  realisation  possessing  her,  a  little  impulse  of 
hope  quickened  the  beat  of  her  heart,  for  she  thought 
to  herself,  made  cool  by  hope,  "  There  are  people  in 
that  ship,  and  I  shall  be  saved." 

The  vessel  was  a  small  brig,  floating  on  a  cargo  of 
timber.  She  showed  a  tolerable  height  of  side,  and 
judging  from  her  condition  she  had  started  a  butt, 
and  the  inrush  had  overmastered  the  pump,  and  as 
her  davits  were  empty  her  people  had  no  doubt  got 
away  in  the  boats.  She  made  a  churchyard  picture 
for  forlornness,  with  the  broken  moon  hanging  over 
her,  though  daylight  still  throbbed  in  folds  of  cloud 
in  the  deep  west. 

Julia  saw  with  a  fainting  heart  that  the  brig  was 


-f-          Julia  Calls  "Johnny!"      +      211 

deserted,  and  she  turned  her  eyes  up  to  God  and 
asked  what  should  she  do  ? 

The  captain  stood  in  silence,  with  one  hand  back- 
ward upon  the  yoke,  his  head  inclined  forward  with 
intent,  searching  stare. 

"  He  may  be  in  that  brig,"  at  last  he  said.  "  What 
moved  then  ?  No,  'twas  the  swing  of  the  forebrace. 
And  if  he  is  not  in  that  vessel,"  he  continued,  in  a 
voice  of  cunning,  "  you  who  know  where  he  is  will 
tell  me  where  to  steer." 

She  brought  the  whole  of  her  wits  together  in  her 
resolution  to  live,  and  remembered  that  she  had 
given  some  order  to  this  man's  insanity  by  her 
system  of  answering  his  talk.  She  exclaimed  with 
all  the  tranquillity  she  could  summon : 

"  If  he  is  not  in  that  vessel,  Captain  Layard,  you 
will  let  me  rest  in  her  for  the  night,  because  if  you 
keep  me  sitting  in  this  open  boat  I  shall  be  worn 
out,  or  I  might  die  —  I  am  not  strong  —  and  how, 
then,  could  I  help  you  to  find  little  Johnny  ?  " 

"  Right !  You  are  right,"  he  answered,  swiftly ; 
"  you  shall  rest  in  that  brig  if  he  is  not  there;  but  if 
he  is  there,"  changing  his  voice  into  a  note  of  tri- 
umph, he  added,  "  we  must  rejoin  the  ship,  because 
I  want  the  men  to  see  him.  And  I  am  dying  for 
his  company  at  night,  and  for  the  sound  of  his 
drum." 

As  he  spoke  these  words  the  boat  was  alongside 
the  abandoned  timberman,  and  with  the  dexterity 
of  a  sailor  —  for  in  all  professional  work  he  was 
as  sane  as  the  sanest — he  put  the  helm  down,  sprang 
to  let  go  the  halliards  of  the  lug,  and  secured  the  boat 
by  passing  her  painter  through  a  channel  plate. 

This  brig  had  old-fashioned  channels,  which  were 


ai2  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

platforms  secured  to  the  ship's  side  so  as  to  give  a 
wide  spread  to  the  shrouds  and  backstays.  The  boat 
sat  close  beside  the  main-channel.  With  the  resolu- 
tion of  one  who  works  for  life  the  girl  seized  the 
lanyards  of  the  dead-eyes,  and  with  the  ease  which 
her  graceful  figure  would  have  promised  gained  the 
platform  of  channel,  and  a  minute  later  the  deck. 

With  aberration  disciplined  by  professional  habit 
the  captain  went  to  work,  his  intentions  being  per- 
fectly sane,  save  that  he  discovered  an  extraordinary 
anxiety  and  eagerness  to  get  on  board  the  brig.  He 
knew  that  he  and  the  girl  were  to  pass  the  night  in 
the  vessel,  and  so,  with  the  quick  motions  of  madness 
and  with  the  strength  which  madness  often  confers, 
he  got  the  breaker  of  water  into  the  main-channel, 
then  placed  beside  it  the  stock  of  provisions  he  had 
stowed  away  aft,  and  called  to  Julia: 

"  Do  you  see  him  ?  " 

"  Come  on  deck,  and  we  will  look,"  she  answered, 
for  now  that  she  stood  on  a  solid  deck  her  nerve  had 
returned. 

"  Steady  this  breaker  on  the  rail,"  he  called. 

He  handed  it  on  to  the  rail,  and  she  held  it.  He 
then  threw  the  provisions  on  to  the  deck,  leapt  in- 
board, and  placed  the  breaker  betwixt  a  couple  of 
loose  planks.  The  moon  was  shining  brightly,  and 
its  light  rippled  in  lines  of  lustrous  pearl.  The 
heave  of  the  sea  was  slow  and  solemn,  the  wind  was 
soft  and  weak,  and  the  west  was  still  scored  with 
streaks  of  crimson ;  but  night  was  at  hand,  and  some 
stars  were  trembling  in  the  east. 

She  was  one  of  those  little  brigs  which  are  among 
the  quaintest  of  the  marine  objects  of  the  port  or 
harbour.  Her  forward-deck  from  the  main-hatch- 


•&         Julia  Calls  "Johnny!"      ^      213 

way  was  heaped  with  timber  cleverly  stowed,  with 
room  for  a  little  caboose  and  a  narrow  alley  to  it 
from  the  hatch.  Some  of  the  running  rigging  lay 
loose  about  the  decks,  and  this  gave  her  a  look  of 
confusion.  Otherwise,  from  the  appearance  of  her 
deck  cargo,  it  was  clear  that  she  had  not  been  hurt 
by  weather.  A  deck-house  nearly  filled  the  quarter- 
deck ;  there  was  just  room  on  either  hand  for  a  man 
to  walk. 

The  captain  stood  silent  for  a  minute  staring  about 
him.  He  then  muttered : 

"  Nothing  moves ;  I  see  nothing  alive.  He  may 
be  there.  Come,  for  it  will  be  you  to  see  him  first." 

He  went  to  the  door  of  the  deck-house,  and  Julia 
followed.  Two  windows  stood  on  either  side  the 
door,  and  four  windows  ran  down  either  wall.  But 
when  they  entered  the  moon  made  so  faint  a  light 
through  the  door  and  the  windows  that  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  see.  Yet  distinctive  features  of  the  interior 
were  visible:  a  table,  three  or  four  chairs,  and  a 
bulkhead  abaft,  which  might  screen  from  the  living- 
room  two  holes  for  the  skipper  and  his  mate  to 
sleep  in. 

"  Call  him,"  whispered  the  captain,  as  though  he 
stood  in  a  dead-house. 

"  Johnny !  "  cried  the  girl,  "  come  to  father  if  you 
are  here,  Johnny !  " 

She  had  a  wonderful  spirit  to  say  this.  She  felt 
the  horrible  mockery  of  it  and  the  recoil  of  its 
ghastly  derisiveness  upon  her  heart,  but  she  knew 
that  Hardy  could  not  be  far  off,  and  would  seek  her. 
The  passion  of  life  was  strong  in  her,  and  she  judged 
that  her  only  chance  lay  in  inspiriting  the  poor  man's 
dreadful  conviction  that  she  could  help  him  to  find 
his  son. 


214  *&  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

"  Call  him  again,"  said  the  captain,  and  again  she 
called. 

He  advanced  a  step,  and  she  saw  him  in  the  faint 
suffusion  straining  in  a  posture  of  desperate  gaze,  of 
desperate  hearkening,  as  though  his  teeth  were  set 
and  the  sweat  of  blood  was  on  his  brow,  and  the 
palms  of  his  hands  were  bloody  with  the  penetration 
of  the  finger-nails. 

At  that  moment  she  heard  a  single  stroke  of  a 
bell.  She  started  with  a  cry,  with  instant  rejoicing, 
for  she  believed  there  were  men  in  the  vessel. 

"What  was  that?"  said  the  captain. 

"A  bell!"  she  exclaimed. 

"  O  God !  it  may  be  Johnny ! "  he  shouted,  and 
he  rushed  through  the  open  door. 

She  quickly  followed ;  she  was  not  a  superstitious 
fool,  she  was  a  girl  at  sea,  and,  as  a  girl  might,  she 
supposed  that  if  a  bell  were  struck  upon  a  ship's 
deck  it  was  by  a  man. 

A  small  bell  was  hung  betwixt  the  foremast  and 
the  foremost  end  of  the  galley  or  caboose,  and  im- 
mediately under  it  lay,  bottom  up,  secured  to  the 
deck,  a  small  tub  of  a  boat.  It  was  easy  to  under- 
stand why  the  bell  should  have  tolled.  It  had  been 
struck  by  some  bight  of  buntline  or  clewline  in  the 
sway  of  the  brig  as  she  heeled  to  the  fold,  and  the 
sharp  return  of  the  bell  jerked  the  tongue  against 
the  metal  side  in  a  single  stroke. 

But  the  captain  was  too  mad  to  understand  this, 
and  Julia  was  a  girl  at  sea  without  eyes  for  bights 
of  running  gear.  She  was  startled,  nay,  a  sudden 
horror  of  superstition  visited  her  when  following  the 
captain.  She  stood  near  the  bell  and  saw  no  signs 
of  human  creature.  She  cast  looks  of  fear  all  about ; 


<&>         Julia  Calls  "Johnny!"      «$»      215 

one,  even  one,  man  would  protect  her  against  the 
horrible  yokedom  of  this  passage.  The  planks  had 
the  sheen  of  satin  in  the  moonlight,  and  the  power 
of  the  satellite  sufficed  to  fling  dark  shadows  upon 
the  decks,  and  these  shadows  moved  as  the  brig 
rolled.  But  she  saw  no  man;  and  what  ghostly 
hand  then  had  struck  that  bell  ?  For  the  night  might 
go  before  the  swing  of  the  bight  of  gear  should, 
by  adjustment  of  the  rolling  of  the  vessel,  exactly 
hit  the  bell  again  and  make  it  ring. 

The  captain  began  to  call,  "  Johnny,  Johnny, 
where  are  you?  Come  out  of  your  hiding-place, 
little  sonny.  Here's  father  waiting  for  you." 

He  breathed  deep,  listening  and  gazing  about  him ; 
but  no  other  reply  reached  his  ear  than  the  sob  of 
water  under  the  bow,  the  moan  of  night  wind  in 
the  rigging,  the  sullen  slap  of  canvas  against  the 
mast. 

"  Do  you  see  him  ?  "  the  captain  asked,  and  the 
eyes  of  madness  sparkled  in  the  moonshine  as  he 
turned  his  gaze  upon  the  girl. 

She  answered,  huskily,  "  No,  I  do  not  see  him. 
Who  struck  that  bell  ?  " 

"  He  did,"  said  the  captain.  "  O  God !  O  ever- 
lasting Father!  Why  does  he  hide  himself  from 
me?" 

He  clasped  his  hands  and  raised  them  and  looked 
up,  and  in  that  posture  he  muttered  as  though  he 
prayed,  and  all.  the  while  Julia  was  staring  about 
her,  faint  with  fear,  and  with  the  sight  of  that 
imploring  figure  of  afflicted  manhood ;  for  who  had 
struck  the  bell?  And  did  the  dead  come  to  life 
again  in  phantoms?  And  was  the  spirit  of  Johnny 
invisibly  present  ? 


216  *^  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

Poor  Julia! 

"  He  may  come  out  of  his  hiding-place  if  we  go 
aft,"  said  the  captain  in  his  voice  of  cunning. 
"Stop!" 

He  stepped  to  the  little  caboose  and  entered  it. 

"  Not  here,  not  here,"  he  groaned  as  he  came  out, 
"  but  we  must  have  patience.  We  will  sit  and  wait. 
We'll  sit  and  watch  the  deck,  and  at  any  moment 
you  may  see  his  little  figure  coming  along." 

Weak  with  fear  and  superstition,  and  the  horror 
of  her  ghastly  situation,  she  followed  the  miserable 
man  to  the  deck-house.  He  entered  and  brought  out 
two  chairs,  which  he  placed  in  front  of  the  door,  and 
they  sat  down.  It  was  certain  that  the  man  believed 
the  child  to  be  in  this  abandoned  vessel,  and  this  was 
assurance  to  Julia  that  he  would  not  compel  her  to 
enter  the  boat  and  sail  away  in  search  of  the  boy. 
The  thought  inspired  some  faint  hope;  she  knew 
that  this  was  no  unfrequented  tract  of  ocean,  and 
that  even  if  Hardy  did  not  seek  her,  any  hour  next 
day  might  bring  along  some  ship  which  she  could 
signal  to  by  flourishing  her  handkerchief.  But 
Hardy!  She  began  to  think  whilst  her  dreadful 
companion  sat  beside  her  staring  along  the  moon- 
lighted deck,  and  waiting  for  his  boy  to  come.  She 
fully  understood  that  she  had  been  drugged;  her 
thoughts  went  to  the  medicine-chest ;  had  the  captain 
poisoned  Hardy  and  the  rest  of  the  crew  that  he 
might  steal  her  from  the  ship?  This  puzzled  her, 
for  if  the  crew  had  been  drugged  they  might  have 
been  drugged  to  death  by  the  irresponsible  hand  of 
this  madman,  and  Hardy  would  be  lost  to  her  for 
ever,  and  his  ship  would  not  come  to  rescue  her. 

These  were  her  thoughts  "  too  deep  for  tears,"  but 


«f*         Julia  Calls  "Johnny!"      «$»      217 

it  was  fortunate  that  she  had  slept  soundly  and  well 
in  the  boat,  for  now,  though  wearied  in  bone  and 
faint  at  heart,  she  was  as  sleepless  as  the  poor,  tire- 
less creature  beside  her.  She  could  not  have  endured 
to  enter  the  deck-house  and  rest  there;  she  needed 
the  companionship  of  the  moon  and  the  stars,  and 
the  visible  surface  of  the  deep  blackening  out  from 
either  hand  the  wake  of  the  luminary  to  its  limitless 
recesses.  The  whisper  of  the  wind  in  the  rigging 
was  companionship,  but  the  movements  of  the  shad- 
ows upon  the  whitened  planks  were  a  perpetual  fear, 
for  who  had  struck  the  bell?  and  was  the  vessel 
haunted?  Her  throat  was  parched  and  she  asked 
for  water. 

"  Certainly ;  oh,  yes.  He  is  long  in  coming,  but 
when  he  comes  we'll  rejoin  the  ship,"  the  captain 
said  as  he  rose,  and  quite  sanely  he  went  to  the 
breaker,  filled  the  tumbler,  and  returned  with  a 
glassful  and  a  biscuit. 

There  was  the  courtesy  of  good  breeding  in  the 
poor  fellow  as  he  handed  her  the  glass,  for  the  soul 
that  is  never  mad  will  shine  through  disease,  and 
Captain  Layard,  who  was  born  a  gentleman,  proved 
a  gentleman  even  when  insane.  She  drank  grate- 
fully and  ate  the  biscuit. 

He  took  the  glass  from  her  and  filled  it  for  him- 
self, but  did  not  eat.  Then  he  returned  to  his  chair, 
and  that  dreadful  watch  on  deck  again  began.  Often 
he  would  say: 

"  Do  you  see  him  ?  Why  should  he  keep  in 
hiding?" 

And  sometimes  he  would  quit  his  seat  and  go  to 
the  rail,  and  look  into  the  sea  over  the  side. 

The  water  swarmed  with  fire  this  night ;  the  chilly 


2i 8  «*»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <•$» 

sea-glow  started  in  fibres,  in  clouds  like  luminous 
smoke,  in  coils  like  revolving  eels,  and  it  is  con- 
ceivable that  the  crazed  eye  which  was  bent  upon 
these  lights  should  fashion  them  into  phantasms, 
into  grotesque  shapes,  into  the  crowd  of  brassy  faces 
which  the  sealed  but  waking  vision  beholds  when  the 
brain  is  drugged.  He  would  spend  twenty  minutes 
in  searching  the  waters,  and  then  cross  to  the  other 
side  and  spend  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  a  like  hunt. 
Always  when  he  returned  to  his  chair  he  would 
mutter  to  himself,  "  Why  doesn't  he  come?  "  And 
once  he  started  up  with  a  frantic  cry  which  was 
frightful  with  inarticulateness ;  he  dashed  his  hand  to 
his  forehead  and  held  it  there,  with  his  left  arm 
stiffened  out  and  the  fingers  curled  with  the  agony 
of  his  mind. 

At  that  moment  the  bell  was  again  struck,  and 
now  it  was  Julia  who  shrieked.  She  started  up  and 
bent  her  head  forward,  thinking  to  see  the  figure  that 
had  struck  the  bell.  The  captain  broke  into  a  wild 
laugh. 

"  I  see  him !  I  see  him !  "  he  cried.  "  O  Johnny, 
I'm  your  father !  "  and  he  started  into  a  run  with  his 
arms  outstretched,  as  if  to  seize  the  phantom  he 
beheld. 

He  ran  past  the  bell,  and  crying,  "  I  am  coming, 
Johnny,  I  am  coming!  "  climbed  on  to  the  top  of 
the  deck  load,  and  in  a  strange  croaking  voice,  as 
though  it  proceeded  from  some  huge  sea-bird  sailing 
overhead,  he  exclaimed : 

"  There  you  are  at  last,  my  Johnny !  Father  is 
coming  to  you !  "  and  sprang  overboard. 

Julia  fell  upon  the  deck  and  lay  lifeless  in  a  swoon. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THEY   MEET 

IT  was  moonlight  on  the  sea,  and  the  full-rigged 
ship  York  lay  with  her  canvas  aback,  silently  heav- 
ing upon  the  swell.  But  by  the  eye  of  a  sailor  a 
certain  moisture  would  have  been  visible  in  the  silver 
suffusion,  and  he  might  hardly  have  needed  to  look 
at  the  glass  to  guess  that  this  calm  scene  of  ocean 
night  would  in  a  few  hours  show  a  changed  face. 
The  time  was  shortly  after  ten. 

The  lamp  in  the  cabin  was  unlighted,  but  the 
moon  shone  upon  the  skylight,  and  the  darkness 
was  whitened  by  it,  and  all  features  of  the  interior 
were  visible.  Hardy  lay  stretched  upon  the  cabin 
deck,  and  within  an  arm's  reach  of  him  rested  the 
great  Newfoundland  dog,  secured  by  a  chain  to  the 
leg  of  the  table.  The  picture  was  wonderful  for  its 
human  stillness  :  you  heard  no  tramp  of  foot,  no  call 
of  voice.  The  very  sails  slept  against  the  masts,  and 
nothing  was  audible  but  the  complaint  of  a  bulkhead 
or  some  strong  fastening  as  the  ship  sluggishly  took 
the  run  of  the  fold. 

All  of  a  sudden  Hardy  opened  his  eyes,  and 
having  opened  them  he  kept  them  open,  staring 
with  just  that  look  of  bewilderment  and  astonish- 

219 


220  «f>  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  *& 

ment  which  had  been  in  Julia's  dawning  gaze.  He 
tried  to  raise  his  head  and  thought  it  was  a  cannon- 
ball,  but  the  dog  had  noticed  the  motion,  and  in- 
stantly alert  with  joy  barked  in  deep-throated  notes, 
with  endless  wagging  of  the  tail. 

This  tremendous  noise  close  in  his  ear  was  as  gal- 
vanism to  the  dead  frog.  Hardy  sat  up  and  looked 
at  the  dog  and  then  looked  round  him,  and  feeling 
all  the  sensations  of  a  man  drugged  with  liquor, 
believed,  without  being  able  to  remember,  that  he 
had  fallen  down  drunk.  This  is  the  sensation  of  the 
man  who  is  fortunate  enough  to  awake  from  the 
stupefaction  of  laudanum. 

"  Good  God !  What  is  this  ?  "  Hardy  muttered, 
and  he  squeezed  his  brow  with  his  hands  as  you 
would  wring  a  swab  to  drain  the  wet  out  of  it; 

Then  slowly  memory  began  to  operate,  whilst  the 
dog  was  straining  to  reach  him  and  caress  him. 
"  My  God !  "  he  thought  after  a  passage  of  reflec- 
tion, "  the  madman  poisoned  us  when  we  drank  his 
health !  "  And  then  it  all  came  to  him.  He  rose  to 
his  feet,  but  his  legs  trembled  and  he  could  hardly 
stand.  "  Where  is  Julia?  "  and  next,  "  Where  is  the 
captain  ?  " 

The  dog  began  to  bark  with  something  of  fury, 
and  Hardy  with  trembling  hands  removed  the  collar 
from  the  brute's  neck.  The  noble  animal  sprang 
upon  Hardy  in  affectionate  caress  and  nearly  felled 
him  with  its  weight,  then  dashed  into  the  captain's 
cabin,  the  door  of  which  swung  ajar,  and  Hardy 
followed.  He  could  hardly  see,  it  was  so  dark  here, 
and  he  felt  the  captain's  bunk  and  wandered  round 
on  staggering  legs,  feeling.  His  throat  was  as  hot 
as  the  bowl  of  a  lighted  pipe,  and  it  felt  the  hotter 


«$»  They  Meet  «9»  221 

when  he  heard  the  dog  in  the  cabin  lapping  at  some 
water  in  the  dish  that  was  meant  for  its  use.  He 
went  to  the  swing-tray,  where  there  was  water,  and 
drank  a  full  draught,  which  greatly  helped  him  both 
in  wits  and  body,  then  entered  Julia's  cabin  and  felt 
the  bunk  and  found  she  was  not  there.  "  What  has 
he  done?"  he  thought,  and  with  heavy  limbs  he 
made  his  way  on  deck. 

The  light  was  brilliant  enough  after  the  cabin 
gloom,  and  he  could  see  clearly.  He  stood  in  the 
hatch,  holding  by  the  companion-hood. 

Abreast  of  him  lay,  in  convulsed  posture,  the  fig- 
ure of  the  second  mate,  Candy.  He  turned  his  head 
and  saw  the  shape  of  a  man  lying  prostrate  beside 
the  wheel.  He  took  note  by  the  aid  of  the  moon 
that  the  wheel  was  lashed,  then  his  eyes  travelled 
to  a  pair  of  empty  davits,  and  he  staggered  to  them 
and  looked  down.  He  could  trace  the  black  lines 
of  the  falls,  and  saw  the  blocks  as  the  ship  swayed, 
kindling  fire  in  the  dark  water. 

He  was  a  sailor,  and  at  once  understood  it  all.  A 
groan  escaped  his  lips  whilst  he  thought,  "  He  has 
gone  away  in  the  boat  with  Julia  to  seek  his  son. 
How  am  I  to  recover  her?  "  And  the  horror  of  her 
situation  —  alone  in  an  open  boat  with  a  madman  — 
penetrated  his  heart,  and  seemed  to  petrify  him. 
He  could  just  distinguish  two  or  three  dark  figures 
overhanging  the  forecastle  rail,  and  a  couple  of 
sailors  lay  motionless  upon  the  deck  a  little  way 
abaft  the  galley. 

The  dog  had  bounded  up  out  of  the  cabin,  and 
was  wandering  around  sniffing  at  one  silent  figure 
and  another :  no  doubt  he  was  in  quest  of  his  master. 
Then  it  occurred  to  Hardy  to  remember  that  the 


222  «^»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «9» 

grog  had  been  served  out  at  noon.  Suppose  he  had 
got  away  at  two. 

What  sort  of  breeze  was  then  blowing? 

He  reflected  and  remembered. 

He  would  sail  dead  away  and  right  before  it,  for 
he  had  no  destination,  and  was  sure  to  shape  the 
crow's  course.  "  Grant  her  four  miles  an  hour,  and 
this  is  ten  o'clock,"  he  thought,  pulling  out  his  watch 
and  holding  it  to  the  moon.  "  The  boat  may  have 
covered  thirty  miles  of  sea.  They  may  have  been 
fallen  in  with  and  rescued,  for  Julia  would  shriek  her 
story,  and  the  captain  might  believe  that  Johnny  was 
aboard.  But  how  shall  I  know?  How  shall  I 
know?  I  must  take  it  that  the  boat  is  still  afloat, 
and  Julia  must  be  saved." 

He  considered  the  direction  of  the  wind,  and 
made  up  his  mind  to  the  course  that  must  be  steered ; 
but  now  as  to  the  crew.  He  went  to  Candy  and, 
kneeling,  shook  him,  put  his  hand  to  his  face,  put 
his'  ear  to  his  mouth,  and  easily  saw  that  he  was 
dead.  The  discovery  thrilled  through  him  like  the 
cut  of  a  sword  on  the  shoulder.  He  walked  to  the 
figure  beside  the  wheel,  and  in  a  little  while  could 
not  doubt  that  the  man,  too,  was  dead.  It  was  not 
because  he  was  a  doctor's  son  that  he  needed  to  be 
informed  of  the  action  of  a  heavy  dose  of  laudanum, 
or  some  poisonous  drug  of  that  sort,  upon  the  move- 
ments of  a  weak  heart.  But  there  were  live  men  for- 
ward, and  with  sluggish  motions  of  his  limbs  he 
went  that  way. 

He  stooped  over  the  two  figures  abaft  the  galley, 
and  detected  life  in  them.  He  then  stepped  on  to 
the  forecastle,  and  the  first  man  he  spoke  to  was  the 
boatswain,  who  was  resting  his  head  in  his  arm 


«f»  They  Meet  «$»  223 

upon  the  rail.  He  now  saw  there  were  three  others 
near  him,  and  two  were  sitting  on  the  coamings  of 
the  forescuttle. 

"  The  captain  was  mad  and  has  drugged  us,"  said 
Hardy.  "  He  has  taken  the  lady  with  him,  and  I 
want  to  give  chase.  Where  are  the  rest  of  the 
men?" 

"  As  the  Lord  is  God,"  answered  the  boatswain, 
"  don't  my  precious  head  know  it's  been  drugged. 
Talk  o'  Shanghaing!  But  I  never  knowed  it  from 
the  hand  of  a  skipper  nor  worse  than  this." 

"  I  want  to  trim  sail,  and  make  a  start  to  rescue 
the  lady,"  said  Hardy. 

"  You'll  not  get  the  men  to  move  if  there  was 
twenty  ladies  to  be  rescooed,"  responded  the  boat- 
swain, who  spoke  as  if  he  was  drunk. 

"  I  ha'n't  got  strength  to  lift  a  sprat  to  my  mouth 
if  I  was  starving,"  said  one  of  the  men,  who  leaned 
with  folded  arms  as  though  at  any  moment  the  three 
of  them  would  sink  exhausted  to  the  deck. 

It  drove  Hardy  crazy  with  a  consuming  desire  to 
start  in  chase  to  see  their  helplessness  and  to  feel 
his  own.  But  what  was  he  to  do !  Here  were  four 
men,  and  two  sitting  on  the  coamings  of  the  scuttle, 
and  two  alive,  though  prostrate,  near  the  galley  — 
eight  men,  and  more  perhaps  below  in  the  forecastle. 

So  he  went  to  the  hatch  and  asked  the  two  men 
how  they  felt.  They  answered  with  curses,  swearing 
they'd  have  hove  the  captain  overboard  before  he 
should  ha'  poisoned  them. 

"  He  was  mad,"  said  Hardy.  "  I  knew  it,  and 
wondered  you  didn't  see  it  and  ask  me  to  act.  He 
has  poisoned  me  and  stolen  my  sweetheart  away 
to  her  destruction,  but  we'll  chase  the  beggar  the 
moment  we  are  able." 


224  «**  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «*» 

They  growled  out  something  and  he  looked  down 
the  scuttle.  A  sailor  had  lighted  the  slush  lamp; 
some  man,  perhaps,  who  was  less  ill  than  the  others 
on  recovery,  or  who  had  the  best  sense  then  about. 
Hardy  descended  and  stood  under  the  hatch,  looking 
round  him.  I  would  not  like  to  say  how  many  men 
were  here,  because  I  do  not  know  what  the  owner  of 
the  ship  chose  to  think  her  complement.  Hardy 
might  have  counted  eight  or  ten  men,  in  bunks, 
hammocks,  or  seated  on  their  sea-chests.  The  faces 
he  saw  were  ghastly,  as  though  this  ocean-parlour 
were  plague-stricken.  He  went  from  one  to  another 
to  see  if  all  were  alive,  and  they  all  proved  so.  The 
swing  of  the  flame  flung  shadows  like  contortions  on 
the  visible  faces.  It  was  hot  down  here,  and  Hardy 
felt  sick  with  the  drug,  whose  effects  were  not  yet 
expended.  Some  breathed  deep :  the  human  respi- 
ration threaded  the  subdued  moan  of  water. 

"What's  been  done  to  us?"  said  a  man  sitting 
on  a  chest. 

"  We've  all  been  drugged  by  a  lunatic  who's  car- 
ried off  my  sweetheart,"  answered  Hardy.  "  There's 
to  be  a  shift  of  weather,  and  the  ship's  under  all 
plain  sail  and  aback,  and  the  helm  lashed.  Any  of 
you  here  able  to  come  on  deck  and  swing  the  yards 
and  take  the  wheel  ?  " 

The  devil  a  one !  So  Hardy  climbed  with  leaden 
limbs  through  the  square  hole  and  walked  slowly 
aft,  and  sat  down  on  the  skylight. 

The  Newfoundland  came  out  of  a  shadow  and 
lay  at  his  feet.  A  fair  light,  with  power  of  paint- 
ing jetty  strokes  that  slided  upon  the  pale  planks, 
flowed  from  the  moon.  But  the  broken  orb  was 
hazy,  and  the  mate's  eyes  saw  the  darkness  of  wind 


«f»  They  Meet  -*»  225 

gathering  in  vapour  in  the  west  or  thereabouts.  So 
the  breeze  that  had  been  steady  all  day  was  to  harden 
sooner  or  later  out  of  its  quarter,  and  the  ship  under 
all  plain  sail  lay  aback  to  it.  But  Hardy  felt  too 
weak  to  move  the  wheel,  even  if  by  so  doing  he 
could  have  helped  the  ship;  nor,  though  she  could 
have  swung  to  fill  her  breasts  with  canvas,  which 
would  have  been  impossible,  he'd  have  let  her  lie 
as  she  was  because,  with  the  yards  trimmed  as  they 
stood,  he  couldn't  have  shaped  a  course  for  the  direc- 
tion which  he  believed  the  madman  had  taken. 

He  sat  and  thought  and  waited.  It  was  miserable 
to  see  the  dead  figure  of  Candy  lying  there,  and 
miserable  when  he  turned  his  head  to  see  the  dead 
figure  of  the  sailor  beside  the  wheel.  What  an  un- 
paralleled act!  How  deep  and  cunning  beyond  all 
credibility,  and  yet  as  true  as  the  misty  radiance 
floating  in  shimmering  folds  upon  the  dark  and 
silent  heave!  His  brain  was  every  minute  clear- 
ing, and  he  realised  more  intently  as  the  time  slipped 
by  that,  if  yonder  shadow  meant  heavy  weather, 
the  girl  was  lost,  unless  a  passing  ship  had  picked 
them  up;  but  how  would  Hardy  know? 

In  about  half  an  hour  one  of  the  figures  at  the 
forecastle  rail  came  slowly  aft.  He  stopped  and 
bent  over  the  two  forms  lying  abaft  the  galley. 
Hardy  heard  him  speak  to  them,  and  he  could  just 
catch  the  murmur  of  their  replies.  They  had  there- 
fore come  to,  and  no  doubt  would  be  sitting  up  and 
moving  about  shortly. 

The  figure  that  had  left  the  forecastle  rail  came 
along,  and  Hardy  saw  it  was  the  boatswain.  The 
man  went  to  the  body  of  Candy,  and  looking  round 
said,  in  a  hollow  voice: 


226  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

"Is  he  dead?" 

"Ay,  stone  dead;  and  so  is  yonder,"  replied 
Hardy. 

"  What  took  him  to  do  it?  "  asked  the  boatswain, 
coming  to  Hardy's  side. 

"  Why  does  a  madman  tear  up  his  clothes  ? " 
replied  Hardy.  "  How  are  those  fellows  in  the 
waist  there?  " 

"  They're  reviving,"  answered  the  boatswain. 
"  He  must  ha'  put  plenty  in.  Dommed  if  ever  I  was 
treated  like  this  before  by  the  capt'n  of  a  ship.  Tell 
you  what,  sir,  there's  weather  comin'  along,"  and 
he  cast  the  eye  of  an  experienced  sailor  up  aloft 
at  the  canvas  and  then  at  the  moon,  at  which  he 
shook  his  head. 

Yes,  her  broken  face  had  taken  a  glutinous  reddish 
look  as  though  she  was  a  smear  of  pink  currant 
jam,  and  her  light  was  gone  out  of  the  sea.  There 
was  no  more  wind,  but  it  was  thickening  westwards, 
and  you  might  look  for  a  slap  of  squall  any  moment, 
the  shriek  of  the  shot  of  the  storm  gun  sweeping 
betwixt  shroud  and  mast,  and  the  ship  lay  aback 
under  all  plain  sail,  and  there  was  no  longer  light 
of  moonshine  on  her  canvas. 

"  Just  see  if  we  can't  get  men  enough  to  brace 
these  yards  square,"  said  Hardy.  "  We  can  let  go 
and  clew  up  and  wait  till  the  men  are  strong  enough 
to  stow  the  canvas;  but  if  we  lie  like  this  something 
may  come  to  whip  the  masts  out  of  her." 

But  it  was  a  full  half -hour  before  hands  enough 
could  be  collected,  and  they  all  seemed  as  though 
freshly  awakened  from  the  crimp's  debauch;  their 
knees  shook,  their  heads  lolled,  they  lifted  their 
arms  as  though  they  were  operated  upon  by  slow 


«$»  They   Meet  <j*  227 

machinery.  Yet  the  business,  in  a  fashion,  was  con- 
trived. They  clewed  up  the  royals  and  topgallant- 
sails,  they  hauled  up  the  mainsail,  they  let  go  some 
jib  and  staysail  halliards,  and  they  brailed  the 
mizzen  to  the  mast.  The  least  dead  of  the  poor 
fellows  took  the  helm,  and  the  ship  with  her  head 
to  the  eastward,  with  much  flap  of  canvas  aloft, 
bowed  slowly  over  the  black  run  of  swell.  Her 
pace  was  very  slow  because  the  wind  was  light,  and 
all  the  canvas  she  showed  to  it  were  two  topsails  and 
her  forecourse. 

This  was  as  Hardy  desired,  because  the  moon  was 
slowly  vanishing  like  a  dimming  stain  of  bloody 
ooze,  and  it  promised  a  black  night.  If  he  had 
held  the  ship  moving  under  all  her  wings  she  would 
have  passed  the  boat  if  she  had  not  run  her  down, 
for  it  was  his  conviction,  heaven  inspired,  that  the 
madman  had  blown  away  straight  before  it,  and  how 
prophetically  right  he  was  in  that  we  all  know,  and 
yet  for  some  hours  it  remained  very  quiet,  though 
black  as  the  inside  of  a  coal  sack.  Again  this  was 
as  Hardy  could  have  prayed  for,  as  this  raven  seren- 
ity promised  security  to  the  boat,  and  if  it  lasted  till 
daybreak  she  might  be  in  sight. 

The  mate  and  another  man  placed  the  two  bodies 
on  the  quarter-deck  side  by  side  under  the  bul- 
warks, clear  of  the  gear,  and  hid  them  under  a 
tarpaulin.  It  would  not  have  been  proper  nor  decent 
to  have  buried  them  out  of  hand,  for  though  Hardy 
had  no  doubt  that  they  were  dead,  he  yet  felt  that 
time  should  be  given  to  prove  it;  and  so  the  two 
figures  lay  motionless  under  the  tarpaulin. 

The  stars  and  moon  went  out  and  it  blew  very 
faint  with  a  deepening  of  the  blackness  overhead, 


228  -^  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

so  that  you  looked  for  lightning.  About  three 
o'clock  some  of  the  men  had  come  out  of  the  fore- 
castle, and  by  Hardy's  commands  the  galley  fire 
was  lighted  and  strong  coffee  brewed.  This  won- 
derfully refreshed  the  men,  and  Hardy  then  asked 
them  if  they  thought  they  were  strong  enough  to  go 
aloft  and  furl  the  lighter  canvas,  as  he  could  not 
tell  at  what  moment  heavy  weather  might  set  in. 
The  poor  fellows  managed  it  somehow,  but  were 
long  over  it.  Then  as  many  as  were  equal  furled 
the  mainsail,  at  which  hour  it  was  hard  upon  day- 
break. In  the  blackness  of  those  small  hours  it  was 
impossible  to  guess  the  character  of  the  sky,  and 
in  which  direction  the  soot  of  it  was  trending.  But 
all  of  a  sudden  the  wind  freshened  with  a  long, 
melancholy  wail,  as  though  'twas  the  spirit  of  the 
night  that  was  dying,  the  troubled  water  ran  in 
fitful  flashes,  and  the  ship  broke  the  brine  into 
white  foam  about  her.  The  mate  talked  with  the 
boatswain  beside  the  quarter-deck  skylight:  they 
were  both  almost  recovered,  and  you  could  hear 
reviving  life  in  voices  about  the  deck. 

"  I  have  no  doubt,"  said  Hardy,  "  that  the  captain 
blew  away  straight  from  the  ship's  side,  because  you 
see  he  had  no  destination  in  his  mind." 

"  Not  onlikely,"  answered  the  boatswain. 

"  Suppose  I'm  right,"  continued  Hardy,  "  then  I 
reckon  we're  not  abreast  of  her  yet;  but  if  I  pass 
the  boat  before  the  light  comes  and  it  proves  thick, 
as  I  fancy  you'll  find  it,  we  shall  miss  her  for  good, 
and  I  want  my  sweetheart  badly." 

"  That's  quite  natural,"  said  the  boatswain. 
"  We're  walkin'  now  and  the  breeze  freshens,  and 
if  you  think  you  are  right,  sir,  in  steering  as  we  go, 


«9»  They  Meet          «$»  229 

then  what  d'ye  say  to  hauling  up  the  foresail  and 
lowering  the  maintopsail-yard  on  the  cap,  and  man- 
ning the  reef-tackles  ?  " 

"  Get  it  done,"  said  Hardy. 

It  was  easily  done,  for  it  was  not  a  furling  job. 
A  bit  of  sea  was  beginning  to  run ;  it  smacked  the 
ship  under  the  counter,  and  flooded  the  wake  with 
light.  Hardy  walked  up  and  down  the  deck,  mad 
with  desire  for  daybreak.  He  was  steering  by  a 
theory  of  a  madman's  action,  and  he  might  be 
wrong,  and  if  he  was  wrong  —  but  even  if  he  was 
right,  how  would  the  boat  fare  in  the  sea  that  was 
now  running  with  a  madman  at  the  yoke,  and  the 
full  sail  and  tearing  sheet  gripped  by  the  hand  of 
madness  ? 

These  were  considerations  scarce  endurable  to  the 
man,  and  for  ever  he  was  sending  searching  glances 
ahead  for  the  ghastly  hue  of  the  dawn.  The  day 
broke  at  last,  and  it  was  a  day  of  gloom  and  mist 
and  a  narrow  horizon;  the  sky  was  a  dome  of 
apparently  motionless  vapour,  and  each  surge  ere  it 
broke  arched  in  an  edge  of  flint,  and  the  whole  sur- 
face was  an  olive-green  decorated  by  lines  of  foam. 

As  yet  there  was  no  great  weight  in  the  wind,  but 
the  sailor's  eyes  saw  that  more  was  to  be  expected. 
Hardy  went  to  his  cabin  for  a  glass  of  his  own.  He 
slung  it  over  his  shoulder,  and  regaining  the  deck 
sprang  aloft  to  the  height  of  the  mizzen-top,  from 
which  altitude,  with  the  glass  set  firmly  against  the 
topmast-rigging,  he  searched  the  sea.  As  the  lenses 
made  the  circuit  there  leapt  into  the  field  of  the 
telescope  the  apparition  of  a  little  brig  unmistakenly 
derelict,  with  loose  canvas  hollowing  like  a  kite 
against  the  masts.  He  examined  her  intently,  and 


230  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <& 

then  muttering,  "  They  may  be  aboard  that  vessel. 
It  is  a  chance.  The  madman  may  have  taken  refuge, 
or  thought  his  son  was  there,"  he  threw  the  strap  of 
the  telescope  over  his  head,  and  noting  the  brig's 
bearing,  descended. 

He  walked  rapidly  aft  to  the  compass,  and  found 
that  the  brig  was  in  sight  from  the  quarter-deck. 
She  bore  a  little  to  the  west  of  south.  The  New- 
foundland, seeing  Hardy  looking,  spied  the  brig  and 
barked  his  report  of  a  sail  in  sight. 

"  Lads !  "  shouted  Hardy,  running  a  little  way 
forward,  "  there  is  a  brig  on  the  quarter.  We'll  see 
if  she  can  give  us  any  news,  although  abandoned. 
Starboard  mainbrace,  starboard  foretopsail-brace 
smartly  as  possible,  my  lads.  Starboard  your 
helm!" 

And  slowly,  for  the  helm  was  wearily  worked  and 
the  braces  were  dragged  by  languid  hands,  the  yards 
came  round,  and  then  the  maintopsail  was  mast- 
headed, and  the  ship  with  the  wind  right  abeam 
crushed  the  flint-like  surge  into  froth,  and  forged 
ahead  for  the  abandoned  vessel. 

It  was  time  to  make  for  her  if  she  was  to  be 
visited  at  all,  for  the  horizon  was  narrowing  and 
narrowing  with  the  thickness  of  rain,  and  soon 
within  the  distance  of  a  mile  the  brig  would  have 
vanished.  Hardy's  glass  was  full  of  powerful  lenses 
—  its  magnifying  power  was  double  that  of  the 
ship's  telescope;  when  he  now  put  it  to  his  eye  he 
instantly  saw  a  figure  just  this  side  of  the  brig's 
main-rigging  waving  something  white. 

His  heart  brightened.  He  looked  again.  She 
was  a  woman,  and  alone!  The  boatswain  was 
coming  aft  as  Hardy  looked  forward. 


«$»  They  Meet  «$»  231 

"  There's  a  figure  aboard  that  brig,"  he  shouted. 
"  It's  a  woman,  and  she's  waving  a  handkerchief." 

"  She'll  be  yourn,"  said  the  boatswain,  and  as 
surprise  did  not  immediately  follow  perception,  he 
added,  "Well,  I'm  damned!" 

"  Stand  by  to  back  the  maintopsail !  "  roared 
Hardy,  who  was  delirious  with  excitement.  "  Let 
some  hands  lay  aft  and  clear  away  the  starboard 
quarter-boat  ready  for  lowering.  I'd  board  her  if 
twice  this  sea  was  running.  I  knew  I  was  right. 
I  knew  he'd  head  straight  away.  I  knew  I'd  find 
her  by  shaping  the  madman's  course." 

"  Suppose  it  isn't  her  ?  "  said  the  boatswain. 

"  To  hell  with  your  supposings !  "  yelled  Hardy. 
"  In  any  case  it's  a  woman,  and  she  must  be  taken 
off." 

The  men  came  aft  and  got  ready  the  boat  and 
stood  aft,  prepared  for  the  command  to  back  the 
maintopsail.  Again  Hardy  levelled  the  glass.  The 
girl  —  for  we  know  who  it  was  —  had  ceased  to 
flutter  her  handkerchief;  but  the  wind,  full  of  wet, 
bewildered  the  eye,  and  the  mate  would  make  no 
more  of  it  than  this :  the  figure  was  a  woman. 

He  headed  the  York  so  as  to  heave  to  to  wind- 
ward of  the  brig,  and  a  little  while  before  the  top- 
sail-yard was  backed  Hardy  had  seen  and  mentally 
kissed  the  poor  girl's  face  in  the  lens,  and  frantic 
with  joy  was  waving  his  cap  to  her,  whilst  she, 
guessing  who-  it  would  be  that  motioned  thus,  tossed 
her  handkerchief  again  and  again. 

The  ship  was  brought  to  a  stand,  and  Hardy 
shouted,  "  I  am  coming  to  fetch  you." 

She  waved  her  hand.  There  was  an  ugly  bit  of 
sea  between  for  a  boat,  choppy,  with  deep  sucking 


232  -*»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  +> 

hollows,  and  plenty  of  spiteful  foam  to  whiten  over 
the  low  gunwales. 

"  Who'll  volunteer?  "  said  Hardy.  "  Three  will 
do." 

"  Blast  me,"  said  one  of  them,  "  if  I  don't  feel  as 
I  should  be  in  the  road  in  a  boat." 

"  You'rt  likely,"  said  Hardy,  pointing  to  another 
—  "  and  you,  and  you.  Three  will  do,  and  it  shall 
be  two  pound  a  man,  which  God  knows  I  wouldn't 
offer  for  a  deed  of  duty,  only  you're  lowered  by  the 
captain's  drug." 

"  Right  y'  are,  sir,"  said  Jim,  who  got  in  the  boat 
and  was  followed  by  Tom  and  Joe. 

The  mate  sprang  into  the  stern-sheets  and  shipped 
the  rudder. 

"  Lower  away  handsomely !  "  he  shouted,  "  and 
drop  the  hauling  part  that  we  may  overhaul  the 
falls." 

Unfortunately  the  blocks  were  without  patent  clip 
hooks,  and  the  moment  the  boat  was  water-borne  the 
fore-bottom  of  her  was  nearly  wrenched  out  by  her 
fall  into  the  hollow  ere  the  languid  bow  oar  could 
release  the  block.  But  it  was  done,  and  they  got 
away. 

She  nearly  filled  three  times  in  her  passage.  The 
drag  of  the  oars  was  not  strong  enough;  they 
wanted  the  long  and  steady  sweep  of  their  old  power 
to  rescue  the  boat  from  the  arch  of  foam  astern. 
Yet  they  managed  to  get  alongside,  and  with  the 
swift  leap  of  the  sailor  Hardy  gained  the  main- 
chains,  and  in  a  minute  was  standing  on  the  main- 
deck,  with  Julia  sobbing  in  his  arms. 

"Where  is  the  captain?"  were  almost  the  first 
words  Hardy  addressed  to  her. 


<+  They  Meet  «f»  233 

"  He  drowned  himself,"  she  answered,  speaking 
sobbingly  with  tumult  of  passion.  "  He  made  me 
sit  there  beside  him  "  —  she  pointed  to  the  deck- 
house front  —  "and  watch  for  the  coming  of  the 
boy.  The  bell  was  struck  —  it  was  strangely  struck. 
He  thought  it  was  his  child,  and  he  ran  forward 
and  climbed  upon  those  pieces  of  timber  as  though 
his  little  son  was  beckoning,  and  then  he  cried  out 
he  was  coming  and  sprang  overboard,  and  I  fainted. 
Oh,  since  I  returned  to  consciousness  what  a  time 
it  has  been!  And  yet  —  and  yet  I  felt  you  were 
near  and  would  come." 

As  she  spoke  the  wind  howled  with  a  sudden  note 
of  raving  in  the  rigging,  and  deep  as  the  brig  was 
her  loose  canvas  was  inswept  till  it  depressed  her  by 
a  couple  of  strakes,  and  you  might  have  thought 
she  was  settling,  and  with  this  sudden  blast  came  on 
a  heavy  squall  of  rain,  which  thickened  the  air  till 
the  ship  that  was  on  the  quarter  loomed  a  surging 
and  streaming  phantom.  At  the  same  moment  cries 
were  heard  over  the  side.  Hardy  rushed  to  the  rail, 
and  what  did  he  see  ? 

The  boat  was  stove  and  full !  One  man  had  dis- 
appeared, and  the  two  others  were  floating  a  fathom 
or  two  beyond  her  locked  in  each  other's  embrace. 

Hardy  sprang  to  the  brig's  quarter,  crying,  "  O 
God !  O  my  God !  "  as  he  ran. 

He  slipped  some  bights  of  running  gear  off  a  pin, 
and  yelling  "  Look  out  for  the  end  of  this  line !  " 
he  hove. 

One  could  not  swim,  and  clung  to  the  other  who 
could,  and  there  was  no  virtue  in  a  rope's  end 
though  flung  by  an  angel  of  God  to  save  them.  For 
one  moment  the  line  was  close ;  the  desperate  heave 


234  «**  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «*» 

of  the  half-drowned  fabric  dragged  it  fathoms  out 
of  reach.  The  pitiless  seas  broke  over  them,  and 
with  agony  of  mind,  and  a  heart  almost  in  halves, 
Hardy  saw  them  vanish. 

The  girl  stood  beside  him  with  uplifted  arms, 
frozen  by  horror  into  the  marble  rigidity  of  a  statue. 
It  was  going  to  blow  a  gale.  The  black  scowl  of 
the  sky  had  the  menace  of  storm  in  its  fixity.  No 
yellow  curl  of  scud,  no  faintness  here  or  there 
relieved  that  grim,  austere,  down-look.  The  day 
might. have  been  closing,  so  dusky  it  was  with  the 
flying  sheets  of  rain  and  the  white  haze  torn  out  of 
the  foaming  brow  by  the  rending  hand  of  the  wind. 
The  seas  swung  fast  and  fierce,  and  serpentine  pil- 
lars of  white  water  leapt  on  high  from  the  brig's 
side,  and  fled  in  shrieking  clouds  of  sparkles  to 
leeward. 

"  We  shall  lose  the  ship,"  said  Hardy,  with  the 
coolness  of  desperation.  "  We  could  not  launch  that 
boat,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  small,  chubby  fabric 
that  lay  stowed  near  the  foremast;  "and  if  we 
could  she  would  not  live  a  minute.  What  became 
of  your  boat  ?  " 

"  I  looked  for  her,"  she  answered,  "  and  saw  her 
floating  yonder  in  the  moonlight.  The  captain  fas- 
tened her  rope  to  something  and  it  slipped." 

"  Come  out  of  the  wet,"  said  he.  "  We  can  do  no 
good  here.  They'll  keep  the  ship  hove  to,  and  the 
weather  may  clear  by  noon." 

They  entered  the  deck-house,  and  Hardy  began  to 
explore  it,  and  in  the  two  little  cabins  aft  he  found 
all  the  information  he  required  about  this  abandoned 
brig.  The  log-book  was  dated  down  to  two  days 
earlier,  and  the  entries  were  by  a  hand  that  spelt 


«$»  They   Meet  «f»  235 

in  the  speech  of  Newcastle-on-Tyne.  She  was  the 
Betsy,  of  Sunderland.  The  sea  began  to  flow  into 
her  on  a  sudden  to  some  gape  or  yarn  of  butt-end; 
you  can't  tell  how  it  is  until  you  dry-dock  them. 
She  would  have  gone  down  in  an  hour,  despite  her 
pump,  but  for  the  timber  on  which  she  floated.  By 
the  entries  it  was  clear  the  crew  had  stuck  to  her  for 
two  days.  Hardy  then  guessed  that,  growing  weary 
of  waiting  for  a  ship,  they  had  gone  away  in  the 
boat.  In  one  cabin  he  found  a  telescope  and  an 
old-fashioned  quadrant,  some  wearing  apparel,  and 
a  tall  hat  such  as  an  old  skipper  might  wear,  bronzed 
by  weather,  and  instantly  suggesting  to  an  active 
imagination  a  round,  purple  face,  streaks  of  white 
whisker,  a  chocolate-coloured  shawl  round  the 
throat,  and  a  nose  of  the  colour  of  a  bottle  of  rum 
in  the  sun. 

The  old  fagot  was  beginning  to  tumble  about, 
the  water  foamed  on  the  deck,  and  the  launch  of 
the  surge  at  the  staggering  bow  would  strike  a 
whole  sheet  of  spume  over  the  forestay,  and  then  it 
fell  in  cataractal  thunder.  Hardy  shut  the  deck- 
house door.  He  was  something  more  than  uneasy. 
Their  alarming  situation  drove  all  thought  of  the 
wonder  of  it  out  of  his  head.  If  it  came  on  harder 
and  a  heavy  sea  ran,  would  .this  old  sieve  hold 
together?  would  the  deck-house  cling  to  the  deck? 
What  would  they  do  aboard  the  York?  Candy  was 
dead  and  she  was  without  a  navigator.  The  boat- 
swain was  a  good  practical  seaman,  and  in  him  lay 
Hardy's  hope.  The  boatswain  was  not  the  man  to 
abandon  the  mate  and  the  girl  if  he  could  help  it. 
But  suppose  the  ship  was  blown  away  so  that  when 
the  weather  cleared  the  brig  was  not  in  sight,  what 


236  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  -^ 

would,  or  rather,  what  could,  the  boatswain  do? 
He  had  not  the  navigator's  art,  and  might  not 
therefore  know  how  to  pick  the  brig  up.  Their  con- 
dition was  frightful;  the  lazarette  was  awash;  he 
could  not  seek  food  in  flooded  timber.  He  sat  down 
beside  the  girl. 

"  I  cannot  realise  that  you  are  with  me,"  she 
said. 

Her  dress  was  damp,  and  raindrops  sparkled  upon 
her  face  and  hair.  He  drew  out  his  handkerchief, 
which  lay  dry  in  his  pocket,  and  softly  passed  it  over 
her  face  and  hair.  She  was  loving  him  with  her 
eyes.  Never  did  human  passion  make  the  eyes  of 
a  woman  more  beautiful. 

"  You  must  be  starving,"  he  said. 

"  No,  the  captain  brought  some  food  and  water." 

"  Tell  me  where  it  is,"  he  cried,  starting  to  his 
feet. 

She  told  him  where  the  breaker  was  and  the  glass, 
and  the  parcel  of  provisions.  He  rushed  out.  The 
contents  of  the  breaker  could  not  be  hurt  by  the 
flying  brine  and  rain ;  and  mercifully  the  provisions 
had  been  so  placed  that  the  breaker  and  the  planks 
between  which  the  captain  had  placed  them  kept 
them  dry. 

Hardy  ran  into  the  deck-house  with  the  food,  put 
the  glass  in  his  pocket,  and  returned  again  with  the 
breaker,  from  which  only  two  or  three  drinks  had 
been  drawn. 

"  Thank  God  for  this ! "  said  he,  and  he  felt  al- 
most happy. 

She  had  but  little  knowledge  of  the  sea,  and  could 
not  interpret  their  condition  to  the  full  of  its  tragic 
significance.  Her  heart  was  almost  joyous  because 


<$»  They  Meet  «$»  237 

her  sweetheart  was  at  her  side;  though  death  was 
hovering  over  that  reeling  fabric,  its  shadow  was  not 
upon  her  spirit.  She  was  rescued  by  the  man  she 
loved  from  the  horrors  of  loneliness  on  the  wide  sea, 
from  imaginations  which  had  been  excited  in  her  by 
those  two  mysterious  strokes  on  the  bell,  and  by  her 
horrible  association  with  a  madman.  The  brig  reeled 
and  groaned  to  the  sweep  of  the  strong  wind  in  the 
canvas,  which  was  like  to  stream  from  the  yards  in 
hairs  of  cloth  if  the  weather  hardened.  Again  and 
again  Hardy  left  the  girl's  side  to  step  on  deck  and 
see  how  it  was.  The  sky  was  a  yellowish  thickness 
down  to  within  a  mile,  out  of  which  the  flying 
comber  flashed,  and  the  scene  was  a  giddy  panto- 
mime of  racing  seas.  This  old  bucket  of  brig  was 
taking  it  gallantly  over  her  bows.  Hardy  went  for- 
ward to  see  if  the  only  boat  survived,  and  found  her 
sitting  secure,  seized  to  eye-bolts,  and  ready  for 
turning  over  and  launching  by  tackles  when  the 
weather  permitted. 

This  comforted  him,  and  he  stepped  into  the  little 
caboose  which  some  lee  sea  might  hurl  into  the 
scuppers  at  any  moment.  Here,  to  his  great  delight, 
in  a  drawer  he  found  some  twenty  or  thirty  ship's 
biscuits,  a  bottle  half-full  of  rum,  and  a  large  piece 
of  boiled  pork  on  a  tin  dish ;  he  also  found  a  black- 
handled  knife  and  fork  on  a  shelf  where  stood  a  row 
of  china  plates,  one  of  which  he  took  down. 

With  this  booty,  half  pocketed  and  half  in  arms, 
he  returned  to  the  deck-house,  at  whose  door  the 
girl  had  stood  waiting  for  him,  and  spite  of  the 
flying  brine,  and  the  sickly  reel  of  the  half-foun- 
dered brig,  and  the  thunder  of  the  wind  aloft,  and 
their  own  dreadful  situation,  the  vision  of  Bax's 


238  «*>  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <& 

farm  rose  before  his  mind's  eye  as  he  saw  her 
standing  in  that  door  in  the  old  incomparable  pos- 
ture, the  straw  hat  slightly  cocked,  the  head  a  little 
on  one  side,  the  left  hand  on  the  hip. 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

HARD    WEATHER 

HARDY  carefully  put  away  the  good  things  he 
had  discovered,  and  then  made  a  pork  sandwich 
with  biscuits,  and  poured  out  a  little  rum  which  he 
mingled  with  water,  and  they  both  made  a  meal. 

Had  she  been  alone  she  would  have  been  dying  of 
fear;  her  lover  was  with  her,  and  the  sea  had  no 
terrors.  They  talked  as  they  ate. 

"  I  foresaw  heavy  weather,"  said  he,  "  but  not  the 
loss  of  three  men.  We  shall  lose  the  ship,  I  fear; 
there  are  no  signs  of  the  weather  clearing.  My 
God!  how  this  beast  wallows!  Why,  you'd  think 
the  sun  had  burst  out !  " 

For  just  then  the  air  was  whitened  by  a  great 
sheet  of  water. 

"If  the  boat  forward  is  carried  away  —  "  He 
checked  himself,  and  then  continued,  "  If  we  lose 
the  York  we  shall  be  picked  up  by  something  else. 
These  old  north-countrymen  are  born  to  live." 

"  I  am  seeing  life  on  the  ocean,"  said  Julia,  smil- 
ing at  him. 

"  Why,  it  has  come  as  thick  as  cockroaches,"  he 
answered.  "  When  you  get  home  you  shall  write 
your  story,  and  the  critics  who  take  shipping  on  a 
summer  day  from  Putney  to  Henley  will  exclaim 
as  one  man,  *  What  a  lie ! ' 

239 


240  -$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <+ 

"  Who  rang  the  bell ?  "  said  Julia.  "That  question 
will  worry  me  whilst  I  live." 

A  sea  struck  the  deck-house  and  blinded  the 
weather-windows.  The  sturdy  structure  quivered. 
Hardy  waited  until  the  water  had  roared  away  over- 
board, and  then  said: 

"  A  bell  will  strike  of  itself  in  a  rolling  ship.  I 
have  heard  it.  Or  it  was  hit  by  a  rope.  Do  you 
believe  in  ghosts,  Julia  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to." 

"  The  stroke  was  a  sudden  come-to  in  the  reel  of 
the  brig,  or  a  rope  did  it,"  said  Hardy,  and  she 
tried  to  look  as  though  she  believed  him. 

Thus  they  talked  whilst  they  sat  in  the  deck- 
house, for  out  of  it  they  would  have  stood  to  be 
washed  overboard.  The  seas  poured  in  gray-green 
folds,  and  the  foam  rolled  about  the  decks  like  the 
cream  of  the  breaker  on  shelving  sand.  She  was  a 
stout  bucket  and  strongly  knit,  and  if  all  had  been 
well  with  her  she  would  have  sported  with  this 
breeze.  Her  canvas  was  setting  her  to  the  eastwards 
broadside  on,  and  Hardy  was  glad  of  it,  because 
he  guessed  that  the  York  would  remain  hove  to,  and 
that  her  drift  would  not  be  much  greater  than  the 
sag  of  this  half-drowned  Geordie. 

But  though  he  looked  abroad  he  never  witnessed 
any  signs  of  improvement,  or  even  promise  of  im- 
provement, in  the  weather.  It  was  not  blowing 
harder,  however,  which  was  a  good  thing,  yet  he 
guessed  that  even  if  the  weight  of  the  wind  re- 
mained as  it  stood,  then,  should  it  blow  all  night, 
a  fair  daybreak  would  not  reveal  the  York,  in  which 
case  they  were  shipwrecked,  and  must  either  wait 
to  be  taken  off,  or  trust  to  God's  mercy  to  keep 


Hard  Weather          «$»         241 


the  boat  in  her  place  forward,  that  they  might 
launch  her,  and  seek  the  succour  that  would  not 
come.  The  deck-house  was  often  hit  by  the  sea,  but 
the  blows  were  rarely  hard,  and  there  was  more 
terror  in  the  thunder  of  the  stroke  than  in  the  possi- 
bility of  the  structure  going. 

"  I  see  a  scuttle-butt  out  there,"  said  he  once 
during  the  course  of  the  morning. 

"What's  that?"  she  asked. 

"  A  cask  for  holding  fresh  water  for  the  men  to 
drink  when  on  deck." 

He  stepped  out,  got  under  the  rail,  and  crept  to 
the  scuttle-butt  with  the  foam  about  his  feet.  The 
dipper  hung  by  a  sling;  he  dropped  it  through  the 
hole  and  brought  it  up  full,  and  tasting  it  found  it 
fairly  sweet,  sweet  enough  for  human  necessity.  He 
added  security  to  the  cask  by  further  lashings,  and 
covered  the  hole  to  protect  the  water  from  the  flying 
salt,  then  crept  back  through  the  foam  to  the  side  of 
his  sweetheart,  first  sending  the  sight  of  a  falcon 
piercing  the  rain-swept  obscurity  of  the  quarter  in 
which  he  guessed  the  York  was  lying  hove  to.  But 
all  was  the  confusion  of  the  headlong  surge,  raging 
in  frequent  collision,  the  stormy  stare  of  motionless 
vapour,  the  wink  of  the  sea-flash  within  the  veil  of 
haze,  and  the  universal  groaning  of  old  ocean  when 
that  grim  Boatswain,  the  Gale,  whitens  her  back 
with  the  thongs  of  his  cat. 

About  midday  they  made  another  meal  off  pork 
sandwiches,  a  godsend  to  the  poor  creatures.  As 
the  time  went  by  and  the  weather  held  as  before, 
the  sense  of  shipwreck  grew  keener  and  keener  in 
Hardy.  Not  so  with  the  girl;  compared  to  what 
might  have  been,  this  wallowing  lump  of  brig,  filled 


242  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

with  timber,  straining  afloat,  was  paradise.  But 
Hardy  did  not  much  relish  the  notion  of  having 
to  take  to  that  boat  yonder.  He  could  see  that 
with  the  yard-arm  tackle  which  he  would  find  she 
was  to  be.  easily  got  on  to  her  keel,  and  hoisted 
out  of  it  by  the  little  winch  just  before  the  main- 
mast. 

It  might  prove  a  job,  for  his  shipmate  was  a  girl ; 
yet  much  harder  jobs,  girl  or  no  girl,  were  to  be  got 
through  at  sea.  But  until  the  weather  calmed  he 
could  not  think  of  the  boat,  and  if  the  weather  did 
calm  and  left  the  brig  afloat,  which  was  very 
probable,  and  he  managed  to  launch  the  boat,  then, 
bethinking  him  of  Julia  and  himself  in  that  small 
squab  fabric,  his  heart  grew  cold;  because  next  to 
the  raft  the  open  boat  in  mid-ocean  is  the  greatest 
desperation  of  the  sailor.  Nearly  every  chapter  of 
its  romance  is  a  tragedy.  One  dies  and  is  buried, 
one  goes  mad  and  springs  overboard  to  drink  of  the 
crystal  fountain  which  is  gushing  in  the  sweet  valley 
just  there.  Another  is  hollow-eyed  with  famine,  and 
the  gaunt  cheeks  work  with  the  movement  of  the 
jaw  upon  the  piece  of  lead  or  the  die  of  boot-leather, 
which  helps  the  saliva.  Hardy  knew  it  all,  had 
tasted  some  of  it,  and  he  could  not  think  of  Julia 
and  that  little  open  boat  and  the  flawless  horizon, 
more  pitiless  to  the  wrecked  mariner  than  the  cordon 
of  soldiers  to  the  famished  city,  without  feeling  his 
heart  turn  cold. 

And  now  happened  something  which  I  fear  the 
reader  will  think  more  incredible  than  any  other 
incident  in  this  volume. 

After  talking  a  little  while  together,  these  two 
people  rose  from  their  chairs  and  knelt  down  in 


Hard  Weather          «$»         243 


prayer.  Hardy  believed  in  God  and  in  the  mercy 
of  God,  and  so  did  Julia,  and  he  asked  God  in  the 
simple  language  of  the  plain  English  seaman's  heart 
to  protect  them  and  be  with  them,  and  he  thanked 
him  for  the  mercy  he  had  already  vouchsafed;  and 
depend  upon  it  no  British  sailor  will  consider  this  an 
unnatural  act  on  the  part  of  Hardy,  because  al- 
ways the  proudest  heart  of  oak  in  the  hour  of 
triumph,  the  most  depressed  heart  of  oak  in  the  hour 
of  trial,  has  been  accustomed  to  look  up  to  God 
and  thank  or  beseech  him,  for  it  is  he  who  shares 
the  loneliness  of  the  seaman  on  the  wide,  wide  sea. 

But  let  me  assure  the  reader,  also,  that  lovers 
do  not  make  love  in  shipwreck  as  they  do  under  the 
awning  of  the  passenger  liner,  or  in  the  bower  of 
roses  ashore.  Death  is  too  near  to  allow  passion 
to  expend  itself  in  the  form  made  familiar  by  the 
novel.  Their  talk  often  went  to  Captain  Layard 
and  the  amazing  cunning  he  had  exhibited  in  invent- 
ing the  trap  they  had  all  fallen  into. 

"  I  believe,"  said  Hardy,  "  only  two  are  dead  on 
board.  He  had  a  book  to  give  them  the  doses,  and 
his  brain  was  clearly  equal  to  understanding  what  it 
said.  But  would  the  rum  absorb  all  the  poison? 
Would  not  one  man  get  more  than  his  whack?  A 
few  grains  more  would  have  done  for  us  all.  The 
beggar  took  care  not  to  drink  himself,  and  none  of 
us  thought  of  asking  him  to." 

"  How  did  you  feel  when  you  awoke?  "  she  asked. 

"  Much  as  you  did,  I  expect,"  he  answered. 

But  talking  was  not  very  easy  in  this  interior. 
The  water,  sheeting  against  the  deck-house,  seethed 
through  speech  and  confounded  it.  There  was  the 
thunder  of  the  fallen  sea  forward,  and  the  incom- 


244  *$*  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

municable  maledictions  of  a  sodden  brig  in  the 
trough  rilled  the  gale  with  bewilderment  as  it  flew. 
Every  fabric  afloat  has  a  voice  of  her  own,  and 
like  her  sailors,  she  knows  how  to  swear  when 
injured. 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon  Hardy  stepped  into 
the  after-berths,  but  found  nothing  to  reward  his 
search.  The  papers  of  an  old  timberman  are  unin- 
teresting; the  letters  of  an  auld  wife  of  Sunderland 
to  her  Geordie  are  sacred,  and  saving  three  or  four 
clay  pipes  and  some  tobacco,  for  which  Hardy  was 
grateful,  there  was  little  to  be  seen  worth  mention- 
ing. If  this  gale  slackened  into  moderate  weather 
the  girl  should  sleep  in  one  of  these  berths ;  if  not, 
near  the  door  in  the  interior  on  the  best  sort  of  bed 
he  could  contrive,  because,  as  he  meant  to  keep 
watch  and  watch  himself  throughout  the  night,  she 
would  be  close  by  to  rescue  if  some  thunderous 
surge  should  discharge  the  deck-house  from  its  ob- 
ligation of  sticking.  He  had  searched  for  candles 
and  had  found  none;  a  few  boxes  of  matches  were 
in  a  sort  of  desk  fixed  to  the  bulkhead  near  the 
bunk.  So  he  came  out  of  the  captain's  berth  with 
an  old  mattress,  and  then  he  brought  some  wearing 
apparel,  a  heavy  coat  with  big  horn  buttons,  and  a 
pair  of  north-country  breeches,  which,  if  seized  to  a 
stay  for  fresh  air,  might  fill  up  and  stand  out  like 
the  half  of  a  Dutchman  in  a  jump. 

"What's  all  that  for?"   said  Julia. 

He  explained,  and  she  loved  him,  and  thought 
how  good  he  was. 

Yes,  there  are  even  worse  conditions  of  life  to 
a  girl  than  being  shipwrecked  with  a  sailor  who 
is  a  gentleman,  and  if  the  gentleman  informs  the 


Hard  Weather          «$»         245 


spirit  of  a  sailor,  its  impulse  is  never  greater  than 
when  it  responds  to  the  appeal  of  a  girl's  helpless- 
ness. 

He  cut  up  a  little  tobacco  and  smoked  a  pipe. 
It  seemed  to  bring  him  within  hail  of  civilisation, 
and  Julia  enjoyed  the  smell  of  the  tobacco-smoke 
immensely,  and  said  it  made  her  think  of  her  father. 

"How  would  he  relish  this  picture?"  said  he, 
referring  to  their  situation. 

"  He  would  not  like  to  be  here,  that  is  all  he 
would  think.  Will  this  brig  keep  together,  do  you 
fancy?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  and  I'll  tell  you  what — the  gale  doesn't 
harden,  which  is  a  good  sign.  There  was  plenty  of 
weather  in  the  moon  last  night,  but  in  these  parts 
it  is  not  often  long-lived." 

"  Is  not  a  tremendous  sea  running?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  from  the  Ramsgate  or  Margate  Sands 
point  of  view.  You  must  go  to  about  fifty-eight 
south,  right  off  the  Horn,  and  get  amongst  the  ice 
to  know  what  a  tremendous  sea  is  like.  They  come 
like  the  cliffs  of  Dover  at  you,  and  the  deck  is  up 
and  down,  whilst  the  keel  sweeps  up  the  acclivity. 
It  is  splendid  and  frightful.  I  was  hove  to  for  a 
fortnight  down  there;  we  couldn't  drive  clear  of 
the  ice,  and  we  had  about  four  hours  of  daylight 
to  see  by.  All  the  devils  in  hell  raved  in  our  rigging 
as  we  sat  upright  a  breathless  instant  on  the  amazing 
peak  we  had  climbed.  No,  Julia,  this  is  not  a  tre- 
mendous sea,  and  the  brig  will  hang  together  and 
outweather  twenty  such." 

The  vessel,  however,  was  acting  as  though  she 
considered  it  a  tremendous  sea.  Had  she  been  dis- 
masted or  a  steamer  her  behaviour  could  not  have 


246  «9»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

been  worse.  Her  sails  a  little  steadied  her,  but  her 
rollings  and  motions  and  plungings  and  heavings 
were  sickening  and  insufferable,  because  she  was 
nearly  full  of  water.  She  had  no  buoyancy  and  the 
seas  made  a  rock  of  her,  and  often  sprang  in  green 
sheets  right  over  her  —  a  wet  and  yelling  game  of 
leap-frog. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  when  it  was  almost  dark, 
one  of  these  seas  filled  the  caboose  and  swept  it  to 
leeward,  where  it  lay  stranded.  The  outcry  of 
hurled  ironmongery,  of  crashing  china,  of  skipping 
knives  and  forks,  pot,  kettles,  and  pans,  along  with 
the  noise  of  the  splintering  caboose,  was  enough  to 
make  Hardy  think  that  the  brig  was  scattering 
under  their  feet.  The  girl  grasped  his  hand  when 
that  sea  came  and  the  galley  went;  she  thought  it 
was  all  over  with  them.  Hardy  kept  his  thoughts 
to  himself :  his  real  anxiety  was  in  the  boat,  which 
might  be  washed  overboard  or  dashed  into  staves, 
and  in  the  deck-house,  which  was  their  only  shelter. 

Happily  the  old  bucket  had  taken  up  her  position 
on  her  own  account,  and  it  was  chiefly  the  bows  and 
amidships  which  got  the  drenches;  it  was  seldom 
that  the  deck-house  was  struck  by  a  sea  whose 
weight  was  a  menace. 

"  It  is  miserable  to  be  without  light  at  sea,"  said 
Hardy,  "  on  a  black  night  in  heavy  weather.  But 
there  is  no  lamp  here  and  none  in  the  berths,  and 
if  there  was  where  should  I  find  oil  ?  We  must  face 
it  through,  Julia,  and  you  must  sleep." 

"  I  have  had  more  sleep  than  I  want,"  replied 
Julia.  "  I  shall  not  mind  the  darkness  if  the  bell 
isn't  struck." 

"  It  may  be  struck  by  a  rope,  by  nothing  else. 


Hard  Weather          «$»         247 


If  a  ghost,  how  could  an  essence  grasp  substance? 
How  could  something  you  could  walk  through  lift 
a  knife  or  try  and  pull  down  a  lamp-post  ?  " 

"  I  sha'n't  like  it  if  I  hear  it,"  she  replied.  "  Oh, 
how  dreadful  to  think  of  him  washing  about  under 
us!  Wretched  man!  You  should  have  seen  the 
unearthly  expression  of  his  face  whilst  he  sat  staring 
forward,  waiting  for  the  little  drummer  to  appear." 

"  The  great  poet  is  true,"  said  Hardy,  who  had 
fingered  a  few  volumes  in  his  day,  albeit  he  was 
a  sailor  in  the  Merchant  Service  of  England. 

" « For  shapes  which  come  not  at  an  earthly  call 
Will  not  depart  when  mortal  voices  bid ; 
Lords  of  the  visionary  eye  whose  lid, 
Once  raised,  remains  aghast  and  will  not  fall.' " 

"  Those  words  are  true  of  that  poor  dead  man," 
said  Julia.  "  Aghast !  you  should  have  seen  him 
when  he  turned  up  his  eyes  to  God  and  prayed." 

The  afternoon  closed  into  early  evening,  and  it 
was  as  black  as  a  wolf's  throat  at  the  hour  of  sun- 
down. Through  the  windows  you  could  see  the 
light  of  the  foam,  sudden  pallid  glares,  rushes  of 
dim  phosphoric  gleams  which  merely  made  the  dark- 
ness visible.  The  brig  was  a  drunken  vision,  and 
the  yells  of  her  rigging  might  be  likened  to  the 
screams  of  a  tipsy  slut  who  is  being  thrashed  by  her 
man  in  a  thunder-storm. 

The  two  sweethearts  ate  some  biscuit,  and  Julia 
held  a  lighted  match  whilst  Hardy  mixed  some  rum 
and  water  for  them  both.  They  drank  out  of  the 
same  glass,  and  neither  of  them  apologised.  Then 
Hardy  felt  and  wound  up  his  watch,  for  he  wanted 


248  ^  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <*» 

time,  though  he  couldn't  see  it  then  except  by  strik- 
ing a  match.  They  sat  together  and  I  dare  say  he 
put  his  arm  round  her  waist,  and  possibly  she  sup- 
ported her  head  upon  his  shoulder  after  removing 
her  hat. 

It  was  a  ticklish  sitting-ground  and  they  some- 
times slided,  which  was  a  very  good  reason  why 
Hardy  should  hold  her  by  the  waist,  and  why  Julia 
should  cling  lovingly  with  her  head.  And  in  this 
posture  they  entered  the  night  and  passed  perhaps  a 
couple  of  hours,  so  that  when  Hardy  struck  a  match 
he  found  the  time  nine. 

He  made  for  the  mattress,  felt  and  found  it,  and 
the  north-country  apparel  which  was  to  form  the 
bedclothes.  He  then  lurched  back  to  Julia,  who  did 
not  want  to  lie  down,  but  he  was  her  lord  in  resolu- 
tion and  her  love  consented. 

Always  groping,  for  despite  the  sea-flash  it  was 
inside  here  of  a  midnight  blackness,  he  pillowed  her 
head  with  a  garment  of  north-country  measurement, 
and  then  carefully  covering  her  to  the  neck  with  the 
skipper's  coat,  he  pressed  his  lips  to  the  brow  of  the 
girl  who  was  to  be  his  wife,  and  who  was  therefore 
sacred  to  him,  and  bade  her  sleep  and  leave  him  to 
watch  and  nod  and  watch. 

And  now  all  that  followed  was  sickening,  sloppy, 
howling,  reeling,  foaming  hours  of  darkness,  with 
nothing  in  them  but  the  drunken  vision  of  brig,  and 
the  noisy  rage  of  her  straining  heart.  But  at  half- 
past  three  o'clock  by  Hardy's  watch  the  weather  was 
undoubtedly  moderating;  by  five  it  was  blowing  a 
little  fresh;  by  six  it  was  daylight  and  the  wind 
northeast,  a  pleasant  breeze,  and  the  green  sea  rolled 
jn  foamless  swells,  cutting  the  wake  of  the  sun. 


Hard  Weather          «^         249 


which  shone  brightly  out  of  every  blue  lagoon  'twixt 
the  clouds. 

The  girl  was  up  and  sitting  at  the  table.  She  had 
slept  a  little,  but  that  little  was  sound  and  good. 
Hardy  brought  the  telescope  out  of  the  berth  :  it  was 
a  poor  glass,  but  you  could  see  more  through  it  than 
with  the  naked  eye.  The  brig  was  rolling  ponder- 
ously on  the  swell,  whose  heave  was  sometimes  too 
sudden  for  her,  and  she  would  stagger  with  a  scream 
of  white  water  from  her  side.  Her  canvas  was 
blowing  out,  and  the  sodden  old  cask  may  have  had 
some  way  on  her. 

Hardy  stepped  out  and  looked  for  the  York.  Had 
he  looked  for  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  he  could  not  have 
seen  less  of  it.  The  ship  was  not  in  sight  and  he 
fetched  a  deep  breath,  for  either  her  crew  had  aban- 
doned him  and  Julia  to  what  sailors  would  know 
might  prove  a  terrible  death,  or  the  ship's  drift  had 
been  faster  than  he  had  allowed  for. 

"  She's  not  in  sight,"  he  shouted  to  Julia,  then 
sprang  into  the  main-shrouds,  put  his  telescope  over 
the  rim  of  the  top,  and  got  into  the  top. 

She  was  not  in  sight  from  the  top  and  he  crawled 
as  high  as  the  cross-trees,  and  she  was  not  in  sight 
from  that  elevation.  Nothing  was  in  sight  but  the 
horizon,  which  wound  eel-like  to  the  flashing  clasp 
of  the  sun  upon  it. 

He  regained  the  deck  and  put  the  telescope  down 
and  sat  beside  Julia. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  she  said,  when  he  had  given 
her  the  news. 

"  We  will  breakfast,"  he  answered. 

And  forthwith  he  made  biscuit  sandwiches  of  the 
pork,  of  which  there  still  remained  a  good  lump,  a 


250  +  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <& 

godsend.  There  was  nothing  much  to  elate  him  in 
the  sight  of  the  boat  still  safely  lashed  to  the  deck; 
he  feared  the  open  boat  in  mid-ocean  with  few  pro- 
visions, little  water,  and  an  everlasting  menace  of 
weather,  for  blow  it  will  if  it  does  not  blow  now,  and 
what  sort  of  a  time  would  they  have  had  afloat  in 
that  boat  last  night  ? 

Julia  dredged  her  lover's  face  with  her  eyes  but 
could  not  make  out  what  was  passing  in  his  mind, 
because  he  himself  did  not  know  what  was  passing 
there. 

"  We  must  husband  our  stores,"  said  he,  "  and 
wait  for  something  to  sight  us." 

Saying  which  he  rose  and  stepped  up  a  little 
ladder  on  to  the  top  of  the  deck-house,  directed  by 
sailorly  instincts  to  what  he  wanted,  and  there  it  was 
securely  lashed  to  the  iron  stanchions  of  the  low  rail 
—  a  flag-locker.  He  opened  it  and  took  out  the  Red 
Ensign  and  carried  it  right  aft,  and  bent  it  union 
down  to  the  peak  signal-halliards  and  hoisted  it 
half-mast  high,  a  signal  of  deep  distress  and  death. 
Its  rippling  noise  was  pleasant,  but  the  look  of  it 
was  ghastly  with  its  dumb  appeal  to  a  pitiless  sea. 

Julia  stood  beside  him  and  sank  her  clear  gaze  far 
into  the  recesses  of  the  ocean,  and  saw  the  sea  line 
working  and  nothing  more. 

"  Let's  go  and  see  if  the  galley  has  betrayed  any 
secrets  of  food,"  said  he. 

The  sluggish  roll  of  the  brig  was  no  hindrance  to 
feet  accustomed  to  the  bounding  deck.  They  found 
the  galley  murdered ;  it  was  split  and  shivered,  but 
the  coppers  to  the  stroke  of  the  sea  that  slung  them 
had  spewed  out  a  big  lump  of  beef  and  a  bolster 
of  duff  —  the  sailors'  pudding  —  composed  of  dark 


Hard  Weather          «$»         251 


flour  and  slush  with  here  and  there  a  currant,  but 
not  always.  Hardy  pounced  upon  the  food  as  the 
adjutant  lights  upon  the  floating  Hindoo. 

"  They  left  their  dinner  behind  them,"  he  said. 
"  Good  God !  what  a  noble  haul.  Here  is  enough 
for  a  week  with  care." 

"Is  it  cooked?" 

He  answered  this  question  by  pulling  out  his  knife 
and  cutting  off  a  piece  of  the  meat.  Another  half- 
hour  would  have  cooked  it,  but  it  was  eatable  to 
human  necessity. 

He  stowed  this  provender  away  in  the  deck-house 
and  filled  the  breaker  from  the  scuttle-butt,  then 
went  with  Julia  to  look  at  the  bell. 

"  You  did  not  hear  it  last  night,"  he  said. 

"  No,"  she  answered. 

"  It  shall  not  trouble  you  again,"  said  he,  and  he 
unhooked  it,  and  threw  it  down. 

"  But  who  struck  it?  "  she  asked. 

"  He'll  not  strike  it  again,"  he  answered. 

He  peeped  through  the  forescuttle  and  saw 
nothing  but  the  gleam  of  black  water  washing 
below. 

"  The  rats  don't  like  this  sort  of  thing,"  said  he. 
"  Can  you  pull  upon  a  rope,  Julia?  " 

"  I  am  as  strong  as  you,"  she  answered. 

He  smiled  with  a  glance  at  her  beautiful  figure, 
and  said : 

"  Turn  to,  then,  and  lend  me  a  hand  to  shorten 
sail." 

Between  them  they  manned  the  necessary  bunt- 
lines  and  clewlines,  and  Julia  dragged  as  handsomely 
as  her  sweetheart. 

"  Give  us  a  song,  George,  for  time,"  she  said,  and 


252  ^  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

he  started  "  Chillyman,"  which  sea-air  Julia  had 
caught  from  hearing  it  on  board  the  Glamis  Castle, 
and  her  voice  threaded  his  like  the  notes  of  a  flute. 


"  Randy  dandy,  heigh-ho ! 
Chillyman ! 

Pull  for  a  shilling,  heigh-ho ! 
Chillyman ! " x 

In  fact,  you  may  put  any  words  you  like  to  these 
sea-tunes,  and  the  sailors  will  pull  the  better  if  you 
damn  the  eyes  of  the  quarter-deck  in  rhyme. 

Hardy  next  thoroughly  overhauled  the  brig,  so 
far  as  perception  of  her  condition  was  possible.  He 
could  not  see  why  she  should  not  hold  together 
through  twenty  such  gales  as  roared  over  her  last 
night.  He  stood  with  Julia  looking  at  their  only 
boat,  beside  which  there  lay,  as  though  placed  by 
some  angel  of  mercy,  a  watch-tackle.  The  sight  of 
that  watch-tackle  sank  him  into  contemplation,  and 
Julia  gazed  at  him  whilst  he  thought.  How  weary 
were  the  motions  of  the  brig  upon  that  sulky  sweep 
of  swell !  Yet  the  fine  figure  of  the  girl  swayed  to  it 
with  the  graceful  ease  of  a  figurehead  curtseying  at 
the  bow.  She  was  shipwrecked,  she  was  in  a  dread- 
ful situation  of  peril,  this  time  to-morrow  she  might 
be  floating  in  the  sea  a  corpse,  and  yet  never  on 
board  the  Indiaman,  on  board  the  York,  or  at 
home  had  she  felt  happier.  She  was  loving  him 
passionately  and  he  was  always  with  her,  and  she 
could  not  but  be  happy. 

Presently  he  said: 

"  I  will  tell  you  how  it  can  be  done  when  it  needs 

1  Sailors'  word  for  "  cheerly  men." 


Hard  Weather          «$»         253 


to  be  done.     She  is  a  small  boat  and  not  heavy,  and 
you  and  I  will  cant  her  on  to  her  bilge  with  hand- 
spikes, then  I'll  hook  that  watch-tackle  to  a  strop 
round  the  foremost  thwart  and  take  the  hauling  part 
to  the  winch,  and  rouse  her  along  to  abreast  of  the 
gangway.    That  gangway  there  unships,  and  we  sit 
low  upon  the  sea,  and  we'll  tumble  the  boat  through 
the   gangway    overboard,    smack-fashion.      If    she 
proves  too  heavy  we'll  rig  out  a  spar  "  —  here  he 
cast  his  eyes  round  —  "  with  the  watch-tackle  made 
fast  to  her,  and  the  winch  will  do  the  rest.     Yes, 
that  is  my  scheme  if  it  should  come  to  it.     Mean- 
while let  us  be  patient  and  keep  a  lookout  for  ships." 
But  the  imprisonment  on  board  this  abandoned 
hull  of  Mr.  George  Hardy  and  Miss  Julia  Armstrong 
was  to  continue  until  the  dawn  of  three  days,  count- 
ing from  Hardy's  time  of  finding  the  girl.    All  this 
while  it  was  very  fine  weather,  and  of  a  night  they 
would  sit  on  top  of  the  deck-house  whilst  Hardy 
smoked  and  Julia  prattled.     They  watched  the  sea 
lights  which  glittered  upon  the  black  breast  of  the 
ocean ;  they  watched  the  flight  of  the  meteor.    They 
talked  of  the  stars,  which  nowhere  wheel  in  so  much 
splendour  as  over  the  sea,  and  of  the  great  Spirit 
who  controls  their  flight.     Morally  they  were  the 
least  shipwrecked  of  people.     They  were  happy  in 
each  other's  company ;   if  either  one  had  been  alone 
it  might  have  proved  madness  to  him  or  to  her,  but 
the  voice  of  love,  the  presence  of  love  even  in  the 
gloom  of  calamity,  made  a  light  of  their  own  which 
was  as  inspiriting  as  the  hope  that  springs  eternal. 
It  was  not  strange  that  no  ships  ever  showed  a  white 
rag  of  canvas,  a  coil  of  sooty  smoke  upon  the  hori- 
zon in  any  point  of  the  compass,  because  the  brig 


254  +  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$• 

sat  low  and  her  "  dip  "  would  be  small,  and  a  ship 
may  be  within  the  compass  of  a  boat-race  and  yet 
not  be  seen.  Hardy  often  went  aloft  and  searched 
the  waters;  he  did  not  lose  heart,  because  he  felt 
sure  that  something  must  heave  in  sight  sooner  or 
later,  and  meanwhile  with  great  care  the  food  they 
had  would  last  them  a  week  or  perhaps  longer,  and 
there  was  fresh  water  for  a  fortnight  or  perhaps 
longer;  for  I  am  telling  you  what  I  have  heard, 
and  like  the  tramp  in  Dickens's  sketch,  my  squire 
"  would  not  tell  a  lie  for  no  man." 

Hardy  was  also  sure  that  the  brig  would  hold 
together,  and  being  of  the  careless  nature  of  the 
sailor,  though  provident,  willing,  and  sober,  he 
would  not  allow  his  spirits  to  be  depressed,  and  he 
had  eyes  enough  in  his  head  to  see  that  Julia  re- 
garded their  perilous  condition  as  something  in  the 
way  of  an  outing  —  to  be  enjoyed.  She  was  a  fine 
girl  and  we  are  never  weary  of  admiring  her.  I 
have  told  you  that  she  was  not  pretty,  but  her  face, 
what  with  the  cock  of  her  head,  the  hand  on  the 
hip,  the  speaking  appeal  of  her  eyes,  carried  such 
a  character  of  romance  that  it  not  only  interested 
you  at  once,  when  she  looked  at  you  full  and  fas- 
tened her  eyes  upon  yours  with  her  slight  smile,  it 
made  you  even  think  her  pretty,  and  certainly  the 
truest  beauty  of  a  woman's  face  comes  into  it  from 
her  mind. 

Then  broke  the  dawn  of  the  third  day,  and 
Hardy,  who  had  been  sleeping  since  three,  awoke 
and  stepped  out  of  the  deck-house,  and  with  the 
brig's  telescope  in  hand  climbed  the  few  steps  and 
searched  the  sea.  It  was  again  a  fine  morning; 
the  heavens  were  lofty  with  their  freckling  of  sta- 


Hard  Weather          «$»         255 


tionary  small  cloud;  the  wind  was  a  light  breeze 
a  little  to  the  north  of  east;  and  the  sea,  which 
streamed  in  thin  lifts,  sparkled  to  the  caress  of  a 
hand  that  could  make  it  roar  when  it  thought  fit. 
Suddenly  into  the  lenses  of  the  glass  there 
entered  a  full-rigged  ship,  showing  nothing  but 
three  single-reefed  topsails  and  a  foresail  and  the 
trembling  line  of  her  hull  a  little  above  the  hori- 
zon. "  A  full-rigged  ship  under  that  sail  in  this 
weather !  "  thought  Hardy.  "  By  heaven,  it  must 
be  the  York,  and  if  so  she  is  abandoned ! " 


CHAPTER   XV. 

ABOARD    AGAIN 

THE  sun  was  floating  over  the  horizon,  and  the 
pink  of  his  glory  was  melting  into  the  flash  of 
silver,  as  the  wake  of  the  York  streamed  in  a  short 
white  glearri  upon  the  sea.  The  light  breeze  was 
still  to  the  north  of  east,  and  thither  it  had  hung 
for  hours  past.  Hardy  and  Julia  stood  at  the  brig's 
rail  watching  the  ship  that  was  distinct  and  lifting 
in  the  ocean's  recess. 

"Is  it  possible  that  she's  the  York?"  said  Julia. 

He  answered  with  the  telescope  at  his  eye : 

"  Don't  I  know  her !  She's  under  single  reefs. 
Her  spanker  is  furled,  and  her  head  sails  keep  her 
off,  as  though  she  were  under  control.  Perhaps  she 
is,  but  I  don't  think  so.  She  would  head  directly 
for  us  if  she  had  anything  alive  on  board,  because 
I  can  hold  the  line  of  her  rail  in  this  glass,  and  if 
I  can  see  her,  she  can  see  me." 

"What  will  you  do?" 

"  I  will  wait  a  little  longer  and  see  if  she  is 
manned.  If  her  crew  have  deserted  her,  I  will 
launch  that  boat,  and  board  her  before  she  drifts 
out  of  sight." 

"  Will  you  be  able  to  catch  her  ?  " 

"  Catch  her !     Can  ypu  row  ?  " 
256 


«$•  Aboard  Again          «9»          257 

"  Try  me,"  she  answered,  with  the  proud  look  a 
girl  will  put  on  when  she  feels  she  is  of  importance. 

"  She  is  drifting  at  about  two,  and  we  will  make 
that  boat  buzz  three,  and  perhaps  more.  But  if  she 
is  manned,  she  will  come  alongside,  and  our  get- 
ting aboard  will  be  easy.  But  she  is  not  manned, 
I  am  sure,"  said  Hardy.  "  Pipe  to  breakfast,  Julia." 

This  time  they  made  beef  sandwiches  of  biscuit, 
and  they  were  swallowed  without  the  accompanying 
forecastle  growl.  Indeed,  considering  it  was  meant 
for  sailors'  use,  the  beef  was  not  very  bad,  and  as 
it  was  pickled  to  the  heart,  a  little  cooking  had  gone 
a  long  way  to  make  it  almost  food  for  the  human 
stomach.  The  bottle  of  rum  was  half  full  and  they 
drank  a  little  of  the  liquor,  largely  diluted  with 
water.  To  refresh  himself  Hardy  went  to  the  head, 
where  he  knew  he  would  find  a  pump  which  stood 
clear  of  the  deck  load.  He  picked  up  a  bucket, 
carried  it  to  the  pump  and  filled  it  with  sparkling 
brine,  and  purified  his  face  with  the  cold  salt-sweet- 
ness of  the  water  and  wrung  his  hands  in  it,  and 
felt  that  his  beard  was  growing,  for  shipwreck  does 
not  stop  the  growth  of  hair,  as  we  see  when  a 
haggard  crew  steps  ashore  out  of  a  life-boat. 

And  all  the  time  he  kept  his  eyes  fastened  on  the 
York,  as  he  knew  her  to  be.  When  he  went  aft  he 
found  Julia  sitting  on  a  chair  on  top  of  the  deck- 
house. He  mounted  the  steps  and  sat  beside  her 
with  the  telescope,  for  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
wait  a  little  before  launching  the  boat. 

"What  makes  you  know  that  she's  the  York?" 
she  asked. 

'  Twenty  points,  and  you  must  have  served  two 
years  before  the  mast  to  understand  them  if  I 


258  «$>  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

explained.  She  is  the  York,  my  love,  and  with 
God's  eye  watching  us  we  shall  be  aboard  her  and 
safe  before  sunset." 

"  Hurrah !  "  cried  Julia,  and  she  picked  up  his 
hand  and  kissed  it. 

It  was  a  thing  to  be  settled  in  about  an  hour,  and 
in  that  hour  Hardy  discovered  that  she  was  not 
under  control  by  her  coming  to  windward  and  her 
falling  off;  and  when  she  came  to  windward  she 
hung  so  long  that  Hardy  thought  it  time  to  turn  to. 
And  now  began  a  process  of  which  the  description 
shall  not  weary  you. 

First  he  unshipped  the  gangway  and  fetched  some 
capstan  bars  for  rollers;  he  then  passed  his  knife 
through  the  boat's  lashings,  took  the  watch-tackle 
and  secured  it  to  a  fore-shroud  abreast  of  the  boat, 
overhauled  the  tackle  to  hook  the  block  on  the  boat's 
gunwale,  then  he  and  Julia  clapped  on  to  the  hauling 
part  of  the  tackle  and  easily  roused  the  little  wagon 
on  to  her  bilge.  She  was  not  very  much  heavier 
than  a  smack's  boat;  her  oars  were  lashed  under 
the  thwarts,  and  her  rudder  had  been  on  a  thwart 
and  now  lay  in  her.  They  tried  to  run  her  along 
the  deck,  but  though  they  started  her  the  toil  must 
prove  too  great  for  the  girl  who  would  be  plying  an 
oar  shortly.  So  he  carried  the  block  of  the  watch- 
tackle  as  far  forward  as  its  length  would  allow  him 
and  made  a  strop  with  a  piece  of  gear  round  the 
thwart,  to  which  he  hooked  the  other  block,  bent  a 
line  on  to  the  hauling  part  and  carried  it  to  the 
winch,  giving  Julia  the  job  of  hauling  the  slack  in 
as  he  wound. 

He  wound  lustily,  for  he  was  fighting  for  life  and 
time  and  he  was  a  very  strong  man,  and  had  entirely 


«$»  Aboard  Again          «$»          259 

rid  himself  of  all  the  evil  effects  of  the  drug,  as  the 
girl  had.  So  they  brought  the  boat  abreast  of  the 
gangway;  he  had  muscle  enough  to  lift  her  bow 
whilst  Julia  placed  a  skid,  in  the  shape  of  a  capstan 
bar,  tinder  her  forefoot ;  he  made  other  skids  of  the 
capstan  bars,  and  laying  hold  of  her  gunwales  on 
either  side,  the  two  brave  hearts,  with  the  boat's  nose 
pointing  to  the  sea,  ran  the  fabric,  secured  by  a 
painter  hitched  to  a  main  shroud,  clean  through  the 
gangway,  and  she  fell  with  a  squash,  and  floated  like 
an  empty  bottle  with  never  a  drop  of  water  in  her. 

This  done,  Hardy,  who  was  making  haste,  for  the 
York  was  keeping  a  rap-full  and  forging  into  the 
stream  of  sunshine,  though  always  coming  for  the 
brig,  seized  a  line,  and  watching  his  chance  sprang 
into  the  boat,  secured  the  line  to  her  after-thwart, 
leapt  aboard,  and  brought  the  boat  broadside  to  the 
gangway. 

The  roll  of  the  brig  was  very  sullen  and  slow,  and 
the  swell  of  the  sea  sometimes  hove  the  boat  flush 
with  the  brig's  waterway. 

"  You  must  jump  into  her,  Julia,"  said  Hardy, 
"  and  for  God's  sake  don't  go  overboard.  To  pro- 
vide against  that,  see  here." 

He  took  an  end  of  main-royal-halliards  and 
hitched  it  round  her  waist,  and  overhauled  some 
slack  which  he  grasped. 

"  Pull  up  your  clothes,"  said  he,  "  and  free  your 
legs  and  aim  for  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  and  jump 
when  I  sing  out." 

The  little  squab  structure  came  floating  up,  and 
Hardy  brought  her  in  by  a  tug  of  the  after-rope  as 
she  was  coming. 

"  Jump !  "  he  shouted. 


260  «p»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

And  that  girl,  whose  heart  was  of  British  oak, 
holding  her  clothes  to  her  knees,  sprang,  and  in  a 
few  breaths  was  sitting  on  a  thwart  and  liberating 
herself  from  the  rope,  whilst  she  smiled  up  at  her 
lover. 

"  Now,  Julia,"  said  he,  "  I  am  going  to  send  you 
down  the  provisions  and  water.  Stand  by  to  receive 
them,  but  keep  seated." 

He  handed  the  telescope  to  her,  then  fetched  the 
breaker,  which  she  received  as  it  lay  in  that  instant 
of  heaving  swell  on  the  rim  of  the  gunwale,  and  she 
rolled  it  to  the  thwart,  then  to  the  stern-sheets, 
taking  the  glass  from  Hardy  at  the  next  heave.  He 
made  one  parcel  of  the  provisions  and  hove  them 
into  the  boat,  then  casting  the  painter  adrift  he 
jumped  into  the  boat,  let  go  the  remaining  line  that 
held  her,  cut  loose  the  oars,  shipped  the  thole-pins, 
leaving  the  rudder  unshipped,  and  made  Julia  the 
bow  oar. 

Could  she  row?  Very  well  indeed;  but  the  oars 
were  a  little  heavy  and  she  did  not  attempt  to 
feather ;  in  fact,  she  rowed  like  a  smacksman,  lifting 
the  blade  with  its  streaming  glory  of  water  on  high, 
but  the  dip  and  thrust  of  it  was  that  of  a  stout 
schoolboy,  and  between  them  they  made  the  boat 
buzz,  Hardy,  with  larger  power  of  oar,  keeping  her 
straight  for  the  York. 

"  Don't  tire  yourself,"  said  he ;  "  rest  when  you 
like.  She'll  not  outrun  us." 

"  What  a  wonderful  thing  to  happen !  "  said  Julia, 
whose  face  was  whitening  with  the  ardour  of  her 
toil. 

She  looked  at  nothing  but  her  oar,  and  was  cer- 
tainly not  going  to  be  tired  this  side  the  York. 


«f»  Aboard  Again          <$»          261 

"  At  sea,  where  all  is  wonderful,  nothing  is  won- 
derful," said  Hardy.  "  Any  sailor  would  easily  see 
how  this  has  come  about.  But  don't  waste  your 
breath  in  talking :  let  us  row." 

It  was  a  strange  and  curious  picture :  a  man  and 
a  girl  in  a  little  open  boat,  pulling  away  for  a  ship 
that  was  rounding  into  the  wind  as  though  she  knew 
they  were  approaching,  whilst  astern  receded  the 
figure  of  the  brig,  a  melancholy  sight,  despite  the 
gun-flashes  of  sunshine  which  burst  from  her  side 
at  every  roll ;  her  hanging  canvas  flapped  a  mourn- 
ful farewell  to  the  rowers,  who  took  no  heed  of  the 
poor  thing's  tender  and,  for  a  north-countryman, 
graceful  salutation  of  good-bye.  But,  then,  she  had 
been  a  stage  of  maniacal  horrors,  of  death,  of  the 
lonely  little  ghost  that  struck  the  bell,  of  ship- 
wreck with  its  stalking  shadows  of  famine,  thirst, 
and  the  calenture  that  invites  you  to  die. 

Hardy  frequently  turned  to  look  at  the  York  so  as 
to  keep  a  true  course,  and  this  time  saw  that  she  was 
involved  in  the  wind,  and  was  waiting  for  him  to 
come  aboard  to  tell  her  what  to  do.  They  had  four 
miles  to  measure,  and  as  they  pulled  with  the  spirit 
of  shipwreck  in  their  pulse  they  were  within  hail  of 
her  in  an  hour. 

No  man  showed  himself;  she  was  abandoned. 
But  suddenly  on  the  forecastle  rail  appeared  the  fore- 
paws  and  magnificent  head  of  a  great  Newfoundland 
dog.  He  barked  deep  and  long. 

"  Poor  Sailor,"  said  Hardy ;  "  I  had  forgotten 
him." 

"How  inhuman  to  leave  him,"  said  Julia,  panting. 

"  A  few  more  strokes,  sweetheart,"  shouted 
Hardy,  "  and  we  are  free.  What  a  noble  girl 


262  «f>  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  *$» 

you  are!  What  a  good  wife  you  will  make  a 
sailor!" 

"  I  will  make  you  a  good  wife,  never  fear,"  she 
answered,  joyous  in  despite  distress  of  breath. 

The  ship's  head  was  slowly  paying  off  as  the 
boat's  stern  struck  the  side.  Hardy  secured  the 
painter  and  jumped  into  the  mizzen-chains. 

"  Hold  out  your  hands,"  he  exclaimed,  "  and 
jump  when  the  boat  lifts,"  and  to  the  lift  and  to  his 
fearless,  muscular  haul  she  sprang,  and  was  along- 
side of  him. 

He  grasped  her  by  the  arm,  passed  her  round  the 
rigging,  and  helped  her  over  the  bulwark  rail.  The 
dog  was  barking  in  fury  of  joy.  When  they  gained 
the  deck  he  sprang  upon  the  girl  in  love  and  delight 
and  nearly  knocked  her  down. 

"  Get  him  some  water  and  biscuit  whilst  I  look 
about  me,"  said  Hardy. 

He  had  long  ago  known  by  the  help  of  the 
telescope  that  the  ship  was  abandoned  because  two 
pairs  of  davits  were  empty,  and  with  the  perception 
of  a  sailor  he  understood  that  the  crew  had  trans- 
ferred themselves  to  another  ship  in  one  boat, 
whereas  if  they  had  abandoned  the  ship  on  their  own 
account,  which  was  improbable,  they  would  have 
gone  away  in  three  companies,  and  the  davits  would 
have  been  like  gibbets,  since  the  after-boat  had  been 
used  by  the  captain  when  he  stole  the  girl. 

The  wheel  was  not  lashed,  and  was  constantly 
playing  in  swift  revolution  to  starboard  and  port 
and  back  again.  Hardy  judged  that  the  dog  had 
been  left  by  the  men  because  the  faithful  creature 
would  not  quit  the  ship  which  had  been  his  master's 
home,  and  the  men,  who  would  have  had  very  little 


«f»  Aboard  Again          «$»          263 

time,  did  not  choose  that  their  flesh  should  be  torn 
by  using  violence.  Yet  it  was  cruel  of  them  to  leave 
him,  for  they  would  know  that  the  noble  creature 
would  soon  need  water  and  food,  and  perish  as 
lamentably  as  a  famine-stricken  sailor  on  a  raft. 

He  saw  that  the  figures  of  Mr.  Candy  and  the 
man  at  the  wheel,  which  had  been  concealed  by  a 
tarpaulin,  were  gone;  they  had  of  course  been 
buried.  Julia  looked  after  the  dog,  that  was  lapping 
water  thankfully  as  she  filled  a  bowl  from  the  galley 
with  fresh  water  out  of  the  scuttle-butt.  Hardy 
slowly  went  forward,  carefully  gazing  about  him. 

No  man  lay  dead  on  the  deck;  he  dropped  into 
the  forecastle  and  found  it  empty  of  human  life,  so 
that  the  captain's  birthday  had  killed  but  two  men, 
which  was  surely  wonderful,  for  he  had  commanded 
a  power  that  could  have  murdered  a  thousand. 

Why  was  not  this  fine  ship  taken  possession  of  by 
the  people  who  had  received  her  crew?  I  will  tell 
you  at  once,  for  the  story  came  out  on  the  men's 
arrival.  Her  drift  had  been  swifter,  with  the  helping 
hand  of  the  surge,  than  Hardy  could  have  imagined 
or  allowed  for,  and  in  the  morning  of  the  gale  she 
was  close  aboard  a  French  brig  that  was  hove  to 
sitting  deep  in  the  sea.  They  hailed  her  and  were 
answered.  They  stated  they  were  without  a  navi- 
gator and  they  didn't  know  what  to  do.  The  French 
captain  spoke  English,  and  said  he  would  receive 
them  if  they  came  aboard  in  their  r  own  boat  and 
land  them  at  Marseilles,  the  port  he  was  bound  to. 
The  weather  was  then  moderating,  and  after  calling 
a  council  the  boatswain,  giving  the  mate  and  the 
girl  up  as  lost,  swiftly  decided,  with  the  heedlessness 
of  seamen,  to  abandon  the  York,  and  with  great 


264  <9*  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

difficulty  the  sailors  gained  the  deck  of  the  brig, 
leaving  their  clothes  behind  them.  Very  shortly 
afterward  the  French  captain  braced  his  yards  round 
and  shaped  a  course  for  Marseilles,  leaving  nothing 
alive  on  board  the  York  but  the  dog. 

This  is  the  true  story  of  the  ship's  adventure,  and 
whoever  questions  it  is  no  sailor. 

Hardy  left  the  forecastle  and  stood  awhile  on  deck 
near  the  hatch,  gazing  aloft.  In  this  moment  he  was 
fired  by  a  resolution  which  would  have  inspired  no 
other  heart  than  that  of  a  true  British  sailor.  He 
determined  that  he  and  the  girl  and  the  dog  should 
save  this  fine  ship  without  help,  and  carry  her  to 
England,  and  entitle  them  to  a  reward  which  should 
prove  a  living  to  them  whilst  they  endured.  His 
face,  which  was  as  manly  as  Tom  Bowline's,  was 
irradiated  by  the  glory  of  this  resolution  as  he  gazed 
aloft,  smiling.  It  was  possible  —  and  being  possible 
it  was  to  be  done.  But  it  needed  doing  by  two  hearts 
of  oak  and  the  dog  as  a  lookout,  and  great  anxiety 
would  accompany  the  discharge  of  this  splendid 
duty,  much  sleeplessness  and  ceaseless  urging  of  the 
spirit.  But  the  eye  of  God  would  dwell  lovingly 
upon  their  toil  and  peril ;  he  felt  that  and  raised  his 
cap  to  the  thought,  and  he  said  to  himself,  in  the 
language  of  Nelson,  "  When  we  cannot  do  all  we 
wish,  we  must  do  as  well  as  we  can!  " 

He  walked  aft  and  joined  the  girl. 

"  Julia,"  he  said,  "  I  have  formed  the  resolution 
of  my  life,  and  if  I  can  fulfil  it  we  shall  be  rich, 
though  that  will  not  make  us  happy." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  a  little  fright- 
ened, with  her  head  slightly  drooped  to  the  shoulder, 
and  her  left  hand,  white  as  foam,  reposing  like  a 


«f>  Aboard  Again          <+          265 

coronet  upon  the  Newfoundland's  head.  Indeed, 
what  with  the  mad  captain,  drugs,  and  ghosts  she 
was  in  such  a  condition  of  mind  that  she  was  easily 
alarmed  by  any  divergence  from  the  commonplace. 

"  This  is  a  valuable  ship,"  he  answered.  "  I 
know  her  cargo,  for  I  helped  to  stow  it.  She  has  a 
beautiful  hull,  and  is  perfectly  sound  aloft.  In  addi- 
tion to  her  cargo  she  carries  a  little  treasure  of 
jewelry  consigned  to  Melbourne  —  Colonials  love 
jewelry.  I  dare  say  it  is  worth  ten  thousand 
pounds.  It  is  in  a  safe  in  the  captain's  cabin.  I 
should  say  that  the  value  of  this  ship  and  cargo 
is  between  sixty  thousand  and  seventy  thousand 
pounds,  perhaps  more.  Julia,  you  and  I  and  the 
dog  will  carry  her  home.  We  shall  be  richly  re- 
warded by  the  owners  and  the  underwriters  —  in 
fact,  it  is  a  matter  of  salvage  to  be  assessed  if  my 
terms  are  disputed." 

She  grasped  him  by  both  hands,  her  eyes  were  on 
fire,  her  cheeks  were  burning,  the  spirit  of  delight 
and  resolution  filled  her  romantic  face  with  the  light 
of  conquest  and  realisation. 

"  Is  it  to  be  done?  "  she  said. 

"  It  is  done,"  he  answered.  "  We  don't  talk  of 
failure.  But  let  us  make  ourselves  comfortable 
whilst  the  weather  is  fine." 

"  How  heavenly !  "  she  sighed.  "  You  will  teach 
me  to  steer,  George." 

"  I  will  teach  you  everything  tHat  is  proper  for 
a  young  woman  to  know,"  he  answered. 

He  took  her  to  his  heart  and  pressed  his  lips  to 
hers,  which  was  like  signing  articles:  that  lip 
pressure  was  the  seal  of  their  agreement  to  serve 
each  other  loyally,  and  to  eat  the  food  on  board 
without  growling. 


266  -^  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <*> 

The  first  thing  they  did  was  to  go  below.  Here 
was  the  cabin  just  as  they  had  left  it;  there  was 
the  chair  in  which  Captain  Layard  had  sat  and 
talked  metaphysics,  yonder  was  the  locker  on  which 
the  drugged  girl  had  slept,  and  they  stood  on  the 
deck  where  Hardy  had  lifted  his  cannon-ball  of  a 
head,  whilst  his  bewildered  soul  groped  slowly  into 
his  brains.  They  went  into  the  captain's  cabin  and 
saw  the  drum  and  the  drumsticks  and  the  little 
bedstead. 

"  What  a  fantasy  of  the  sea !  "  said  Hardy.  "  It 
is  beyond  me.  It  is  like  a  vision,  sensible  to  percep- 
tion and  unreal  to  it.  Will  our  story  be  credited  ?  " 

"  Who  cares?  "  answered  the  girl.  "  Is  that  the 
safe,  George?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I'll  look  for  the  key  by  and  by.  The 
jewelry's  there." 

The  safe  was  small  and  secured  on  a  massive 
timber  shelf,  but  though  small  it  was  large  enough 
to  contain  the  Koh-i-noor,  and  to  hold  buried  the 
wealth  and  jewels  of  a  rajah. 

Hardy  cast  a  keen  look  around  him,  saw  that  the 
table  held  the  necessary  machinery  of  navigation, 
carefully  wound  up  the  chronometers,  which  had  not 
stopped,  then  went  into  his  own  cabin  whilst  the 
girl  entered  hers.  When  they  presently  met  they 
sought  for  food  and  found  plenty  in  the  pantry; 
here  were  ham  and  tongue,  palatable  stuff  in  tins, 
white  biscuits,  and  pots  of  jam. 

They  sat  down  and  ate,  and  the  Newfoundland  sat 
beside  them,  triumphant  in  this  familiar  company  of 
man  and  woman,  and  Julia,  who  loved  him,  saw  that 
he  made  a  good  breakfast. 

"  How  are  we  to  manage  it,  George?  "  she  asked. 


«$»  Aboard  Again          «$»          267 

"  It  will  require  some  scheming,"  he  answered, 
"  but  we  must  not  accept  help,  because  if  we  do 
our  salvage  share  will  shrink  out  of  all  proportion 
to  our  merits.  Can  you  steer  in  the  least?  " 

"  I  can  steer  a  boat,  but  not  a  ship,"  Julia 
answered. 

"  I  will  teach  you;  you  will  get  the  art  in  a  very 
few  lessons." 

"  One  lesson  will  do  if  I  have  the  strength." 

"  Oh,"  he  answered,  with  a  loving  glance  at  her, 
"  you  are  one  of  those  English  girls  whose  shapes 
of  beauty  are  wire-rigged.  Wire  is  stronger  than 
hemp,  though  it  looks  delicate.  What  your  strength 
can't  do  I  have  arms  for." 

"  So  you  have,"  she  replied ;  "  you  are  the  manli- 
est sailor  that  ever  was." 

"  Let  us  change  the  subject,"  he  replied,  with 
a  little  colour  of  pleasure  in  his  face,  for  a  com- 
pliment from  your  sweetheart  is  next  to  a  kiss. 
"  We  are  fortunate  in  finding  the  ship  under  very 
easy  sail.  We'll  get  some  more  fore-and-aft  canvas 
upon  her,  for  it  is  easily  hauled  down,  but  I  shall 
leave  the  square  canvas  that  is  furled  to  rest  as  it 
is.  I'll  bring  her  to  her  course  at  noon  when  I 
find  out  where  we  are.  You  will  light  the  galley 
fire,  as  we  shall  want  a  hot  drink.  But  we  need  little 
cooking,  for  if  we  boil  a  good  lump  of  beef,  that, 
with  the  food  in  the  pantry,  will  last  you  and  me 
and  the  dog  five  hundred  miles  of  .«sea." 

"  Are  we  near  England  ?  " 

"  Not  very,  I  think,  but  I  shall  know  presently 
exactly  how  near  we  are." 

"  How  shall  we  get  rest,  George  ?  We  must  sleep 
or  die,  or  worse,  go  mad." 


268  -$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

"Aye,"  he  answered,  thoughtfully;  "you  see 
things  rightly,  but  we  must  not  make  sleep  a  diffi- 
culty." 

"  The  rest  seems  quite  easy,"  she  said,  joyously ; 
"  and  I  shall  Ifcarn  to  steer  in  one  lesson." 

They  left  the  table  and  went  on  deck,  followed  by 
the  dog,  who  growled  softly  and  often  in  a  sort  of 
undertalk  with  himself.  There  is  a  great  nature 
in  a  Newfoundland,  and  you  often  wonder  whilst 
you  look  into  his  soft,  affectionate  eyes  what  his 
thoughts  are. 

It  was  a  glowing  scene  of  forenoon  ocean.  The 
ripple  ran  with  the  laughter  of  the  summer  in  its 
voice.  The  endless  procession  of  humps  of  swell, 
as  though  old  ocean  was  perpetually  shrugging  his 
shoulders  over  spiteful  memories,  brought  the  flam- 
ing banners  of  the  sun  out  of  the  east,  and  swept 
them  westwards  in  knightly  array  of  fiery  plume  and 
foam-crested  summit.  Four  miles  off  wallowed  the 
poor  little  brig,  tearfully  flapping  her  pocket-hand- 
kerchief to  the  naked  horizon,  and  by  mute  and 
pathetic  gesture  coaxing  nothing  into  being  to  help 
her.  Many  soft,  white  clouds  floated  westwards, 
and  Hardy  noticed  that  the  glass  was  high  and  those 
clouds  meant  nothing  but  vapour. 

What  a  noble  ship  to  be  in  charge  of,  to  virtually 
be  the  owner  of,  to  rescue  from  the  toils  of  the  sea, 
to  witness  in  security  in  some  harbour  of  England, 
flying  high  the  commercial  flag  of  the  Empire  in 
token  of  British  supremacy,  even  in  the  hour  of 
peril,  when  the  Foreigner  would  consider  all  was 
lost! 

"  It  is  not  yet  twelve  o'clock,"  said  Hardy,  "  and 
we  will  light  the  galley  fire." 


«$»  Aboard  Again          «$»          269 

They  walked  forward  and  entered  the  sea  kitchen. 
Plenty  of  chopped  wood  lay  stacked.  The  ship's 
cook  had  been  a  man  of  foresight,  and  anticipated 
labour  by  putting  an  axe  into  the  ordinary  seaman's 
hand;  also  near  the  wood  stood  two  buckets  of 
coal  and  a  little  heap  on  the  deck.  There  was  plenty 
of  coal  in  the  fore-peak  for  a  voyage  to  Australia. 
Hardy  had  matches,  which  are  curiosities  at  sea 
in  a  forecastle,  for  you  light  your  pipe  at  the  galley 
fire  with  rope  yarns  or  shavings,  and  the  slush  lamp 
is  kindled  by  the  binnacle  or  side-light.  But  aft 
there  are  usually  matches,  because  the  cabin  is  the 
home  of  elegance,  refinement,  and  luxury,  and  the 
captain  must  have  matches,  for  he  cannot  light  his 
cigar  at  the  sailors'  fire.  Hardy  first  explored  the 
coppers ;  they  were  empty.  He  filled  them  from  the 
scuttle-butt;  why  should  he  use  salt  water  when 
there  was  plenty  of  fresh  at  hand?  Fresh  water 
would  cleanse  the  mahogany  beef  of  something  of 
its  brine,  and  perhaps  soften  it  into  complacent 
recognition  of  human  digestion. 

Then  the  fire  was  lighted;  he  could  not  find  the 
key  of  the  harness  cask,  so  he  fetched  a  weapon 
from  the  carpenter's  chest,  and  the  staples  yielded 
to  his  blow  with  the  shriek  of  lacerated  wood.  There 
was  plenty  of  beef  and  pork  in  the  cask,  buried  in 
the  horrible  crystal  in  which  lurks  the  demon  of 
scurvy ;  he  turned  the  pieces  over,  and  selecting  the 
fattest  and  least  ill-looking  lump,  dropped  it  into 
the  copper  for  boiling  when  the  water  should  begin. 

This  work,  easily  recited,  cost  time.  Before  he 
touched  a  brace  or  put  the  ship  to  her  course  he 
must  find  out  where  she  was.  The  last  entries  in 
the  log-book  were  in  his  handwriting,  and  they 


ijo  <9>  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <& 

related  the  story  of  the  captain's  birthday,  how  he 
kept  it,  and  his  disappearance  with  a  young  lady 
passenger  named  Julia  Armstrong.  The  latitude 
was  then  —  N.  and  the  longitude  —  W.  But  the 
drifting  ship  had  measured  miles,  and  her  cap- 
tain must  know  where  he  was.  This  he  would  find 
out  in  about  an  hour. 

The  sow  under  the  long-boat  was  dead.  To  get 
rid  of  it  before  the  carcass  stank  he  stropped  it  and 
clapped  the  watch-tackle  on  it,  and  together  they 
hauled  the  little  mountain  of  what  might  have 
proved  tooth-alluring  crackling  and  white  fresh  fat, 
always  sweet  at  sea,  through  the  open  gangway 
overboard.  It  fell  without  a  prayer,  and  the  fish  that 
nosed  it  that  day  dined  well. 

Some  of  the  poultry  in  the  hen-coops  were  dead ; 
a  few  lived,  and  craved  with  fluttering  red  pennons 
for  drink  and  grain.  Of  course  Hardy  knew  "  the 
ropes  "  of  this  ship  and  could  lay  his  hand  on  any- 
thing he  wanted.  He  filled  the  little  troughs  with 
fresh  water,  and  no  one  but  a  beholder  could  have 
figured  the  profound  gratitude  with  which  the  vary- 
ing row  of  bills  was  lifted  to  heaven.  He  helped 
them  to  grain,  and  they  filled  their  crops  with  all 
ardency  of  pecking.  He  cleared  the  hen-coop  of 
its  plumed  corpses,  and  so  they  sweetened  the  ship 
forthwith. 

It  was  about  time  that  Hardy  fetched  his  sextant : 
the  soaring  sun  excited  his  impatience;  he  desired 
that  the  ship  should  be  sending  his  sweetheart  and 
himself  home,  and  the  ceaseless  waving  of  those 
pocket-handkerchiefs  just  over  the  horizon  teased 
him  with  their  impertinence,  and  as  a  token  of 
distress  when  the  morning  was  fair  and  their  hearts 


«t»  Aboard  Again          «f»          271 

high  and  hopeful.  His  reckoning  found  the  ship's 
position  within  a  mile  or  two  of  her  place  when  he 
had  left  her  to  succour  his  darling. 

"  I  have  it  now,"  said  he,  "  and  we  must  trim  sail 
for  home." 

"  Oh,  how  beautiful !  "  cried  Julia,  and  the  dog 
barked  in  recognition  of  the  girl's  triumphant  note. 

The  ship  was  on  the  port  tack  and  must  be  wore 
to  the  north.  Hardy  put  the  helm  hard  up  and 
secured  it,  then  let  go  the  fore,  main,  and  mizzen- 
braces,  and  the  yards,  as  the  ship  obeyed  her  rudder, 
swung  a  little  of  themselves.  With  the  starboard- 
braces  let  go  Hardy  and  Julia  did  not  find  it  difficult 
to  swing  the  yards.  The  wind  would  be  almost 
abeam  when  the  ship  was  homeward  bound,  and 
there  were  the  winch  and  the  capstan  to  brace  the 
yards  well  forward  if  the  wind  drew  ahead. 

"  Sing  out,  George !  "  cried  Julia.  And  they 
brought  the  fore  and  foretopsail-yard,  with  fore- 
tack  and  sheet  all  gone,  round,  to  their  chanty 
of  "  Chillyman." 

"  Randy  dandy,  heigho ! 
Chillyman ! 

Pull  for  a  shilling,  heigho  1 
Chillyman ! 

Young  and  willing,  heigho ! 
Sweet  and  killing  ole  bo', 
Dandy,  heigho ! 
Chillyman ! " 

The  Newfoundland  looked  on  and  grumbled  be- 
cause he  had  no  hands.  They  got  the  main  and  the 
mizzen-yards  round  to  the  same  song  with  some 
laughter,  because  Hardy  put  a  few  words  of  sweet- 


f»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f> 

ness  into  his  invention  as  he  sang,  and  the  girl's  voice 
was  rich  with  appreciation  as  the  flute  of  her  lips 
swept  the  carol  of  her  delight  into  his  manly  tones. 

Then  they  saw  to  the  fore-tack  and  sheet  and  to 
the  jib-sheets,  and  the  ship  floated  away  steadily 
round  in  graceful  salutations  to  the  dejected  hand- 
kerchiefs on  the  quarter.  Hardy  cast  the  wheel 
adrift  and  told  the  girl  to  hold  it  whilst  he  steadied 
the  yards  by  hauling  as  taut  as  his  pair  of  hands 
could  the  weather-braces  of  the  fore  and  main  and 
the  lee-braces  of  the  mizzen. 

This  done  he  stood  beside  Julia  to  teach  her  how 
to  steer. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

PRACTICAL    SEAMANSHIP 

HE  is  a  lucky  sailor  to  whom  is  granted  the  oppor- 
tunity of  teaching  a  girl  with  a  romantic  face  and 
a  beautiful  figure  the  art  of  steering  a  full-rigged 
ship.  Though  the  sailor  is  often  in  the  company 
of  ladies  at  sea,  he  is  kept  very  severely  forward, 
whilst  the  ladies  are  kept  very  severely  aft;  and 
if  they  formed  a  seraglio  imprisoned  on  soft  couches 
and  fanned  by  eunuchs,  behind  walls  ten  feet  thick, 
Jack  at  sea  could  not  know  less  of  the  ladies  at  sea. 

Hardy's  job  was  therefore  a  delightful  one,  and  the 
more  delightful  because  the  ship  was  now  homeward 
bound,  and  the  morning  was  fair  and  the  sea  cour- 
teous and  graceful  in  caress. 

"  Do  you  see  that  black  mark  on  the  white  under 
the  glass?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  girl. 

"  It  is  called  the  lubber's  mark :  it  is  the  business 
of  the  helmsman  to  keep  a  point  of  the  compass 
aiming  at  it ;  that  point  is  the  ship's  course.  Do  you 
observe  that  the  point  that  is  levelled  St  the  lubber's 
mark  is  north-by-east?  " 

"  If  you  call  it  so  I  shall  remember  it,"  answered 
the  girl. 

"  The  lubber's  point,"  Hardy  continued,  "  repre- 
273 


274  *&  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «?* 

sents  an  imaginary  line  ruled  straight  from  the 
stern  into  the  very  eyes  of  the  ship,  where  the  bow- 
sprit and  jib-booms  point  the  road.  If,  then,  I  tell 
you  to  keep  that  point  called  north-by-east  pointing 
as  steadily  as  the  swing  of  the  ship's  head  will  permit 
to  the  lubber's  mark,  then  I  am  asking  you  to  steer 
the  ship  in  the  direction  I  wish  her  to  go." 

She  frowned  a  little  in  contemplation  at  the  com- 
pass card,  and  said,  "  I  believe  I  understand  you." 

"  I  will  teach  you  to  box  the  compass  presently," 
Hardy  went  on.  "  You  will  easily  get  the  names, 
and  will  not  be  at  a  loss  if  I  should  say  the  course 
is  northeast  or  nor'-nor'east,  and  so  on.  And  now 
see  here:  the  action  of  a  ship's  wheel  exactly  re- 
verses the  action  of  a  boat's  tiller.  Look  under  that 
grating;  that  is  the  tiller,  and  when  you  revolve  the 
wheel  the  chains  which  drag  the  tiller  sweep  the 
rudder  on  one  side  or  the  other,  so  that  when  I  tell 
you  to  put  your  helm  a-starboard  you  revolve  your 
wheel  to  the  left,  which  will  bring  the  rudder  over  to 
the  left ;  and  when  I  say  port  your  helm  you  revolve 
your  wheel  to  the  right,  which  carries  your  rudder 
over  to  the  right.  If  you  steered  by  the  tiller,  then 
to  the  order  of  starboard  your  helm,  you  would  put 
your  tiller  to  the  right.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

The  machinery  of  the  compass,  the  wheel,  the 
tiller,  and  its  chains  girdling  the  barrel,  was  all  be- 
fore her,  and  she  would  have  been  a  blockhead  if  she 
had  not  grasped  the  simple  matter  speedily  —  but 
you,  madam,  who  are  a  lady  and  read  this,  may  be 
puzzled;  possibly  you  are  not,  but  if  you  are  I  do 
not  wonder. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  I  want  the  ship  to  be  off  her 


«$»  Practical  Seamanship       «$»       275 

course:  mark  what  I  do;  she  shall  be  a  little  to 
leeward  of  her  course." 

He  put  the  helm  by  a  few  spokes  over,  and  the 
binnacle  card  revolved  two  points  from  its  course 
as  the  ship's  head  rounded  away  with  the  wind. 

"  Now,"  said  Hardy,  "  I  bring  her  again  to  her 
course :  observe  what  I  do :  we  call  this  putting  the 
helm  down." 

He  brought  her  to  her  course  and  arrested  her  at 
it,  and  the  girl  cried,  eagerly,  "  Yes,  yes,  I  see.  Let 
me  hold  the  wheel,  George." 

She  grasped  the  spokes,  a  swelling,  beautiful,  con- 
quering figure,  a  delight  to  the  eye,  a  triumph  of 
British  girlhood,  one  of  those  women  who  are  the 
mothers  of  the  gallant  and  glorious  sons  that  man 
the  signal-halliards  of  our  country. 

"  Now  bring  the  ship  to  windward  of  her  course," 
said  Hardy. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  she  answered,  re- 
proachfully. 

"  Make  that  bowsprit  yonder  point  there"  he  ex- 
claimed, and  he  indicated  with  outstretched  hand 
a  part  of  the  horizon  to  windward  of  the  bow. 

"  Why  didn't  you  speak  more  plainly  ?  I  can 
do  it." 

She  revolved  the  wheel  by  three  or  four  spokes, 
and  hailed  with  eyes  of  transport  and  conquest  the 
response  of  the  compass  card. 

"  Do  you  understand  ?  "  said  Hardy. 

"  My  dear,"  she  answered,  "  I  can  steer  your  ship 
perfectly." 

"  Not  yet,"  he  said,  "  but  you  are  not  far  off." 

Thus  proceeded  this  pleasant  tuition,  and  for  half 
an  hour  Hardy  stood  beside  the  wheel  teaching  his 


iy6  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

sweetheart  how  to  steer.  The  Newfoundland  sat 
alongside  of  them  and  seemed  to  listen,  for  his  loving 
eyes  were  often  on  Hardy's  face  whilst  he  spoke. 
He  tried  the  girl  again  and  again,  and  at  the  end  of 
half  an  hour  she  was  expressing  keen  appreciation 
of  his  delightful  lecture  by  dutiful  movement  of  the 
wheel.  But,  indeed,  the  ship  did  not  need  much 
steering  that  fine  day.  Had  the  helm  been  lashed  it 
is  probable  that,  braced  as  the  yards  lay,  and  pulling 
in  steadfast  accord  as  the  sails  were,  the  ship  would 
have  made  a  tranquil  passage  of  an  hour  with  no 
other  check  to  the  dull  kicks  of  the  rudder  than  a 
rope's  end. 

He  left  the  girl  to  steer  whilst  he  tautened  here 
and  there  a  brace  with  the  watch-tackle ;  then  entered 
the  galley,  saw  to  the  fire,  the  coppers,  and  their 
contents.  He  was  accepting  an  enormous  obligation ; 
could  he  discharge  it  ?  He  felt  the  heart  of  a  dozen 
men  in  his  pulse,  and  he  knew  that  if  God  did  not 
smite  her  with  sickness  the  spirit  of  his  heroic  girl 
would  make  her  the  match  of  any  man,  able-bodied 
or  ordinary;  so,  though  the  York  might  be  under- 
manned, her  crew  of  a  man  and  a  girl,  with  a  dog  for 
a  lookout,  would  carry  her  home. 

The  weather  was  so  fine  that  he  did  not  mean  to 
make  a  job  of  seamanship.  He  did  not  intend  to 
keep  a  lookout  for  ships  unless  it  was  to  escape  col- 
lision, because  no  ship  that  hove  in  sight,  however 
willing,  should  be  allowed  to  help  him.  The  York 
was  to  be  his  own  and  the  girl's  fortune,  and,  much 
as  he  respected  the  sailor,  no  man  afloat  would  be 
permitted  to  share  in  this  estate. 

He  stood  a  minute  on  the  forecastle  to  admire  the 
beautiful  fabric,  and  to  pity  the  powerlessness  which 


«f»  Practical  Seamanship       «f>       277 

held  imprisoned  the  cloths  whose  lustrous  spaces 
would  have  climbed  to  the  trucks  in  bright  breasts 
yearning  for  home.  Afar  trembled  the  pocket-hand- 
kerchiefs of  the  sodden  brig.  The  naked  vision 
could  no  longer  distinguish  their  appeal.  She  broke 
the  continuity  of  the  girdle,  that  was  all,  and  she 
hovered  on  the  skirts  of  the  deep  like  a  gibbet  beheld 
afar.  Hardy  went  right  aft  to  the  wheel ;  it  was  in 
the  afternoon,  and  the  speed  of  the  ship  was  about 
four  miles  an  hour. 

"  We  will  make  ourselves  happy,"  said  he.  "  This 
is  yachting,  and  if  you  strain  the  imagination  of  your 
eyes  you  shall  see  close  aboard  the  white  terraces  of 
the  Isle  of  Wight." 

She  laughed  and  answered,  "  We  shall  be  off  that 
island  some  day." 

"  No  fear,"  he  replied.  "  Don't  suppose  I  mean 
to  sail  her  up  channel.  Plymouth  is  our  port,  and  as 
we  sha'n't  be  able  to  let  go  the  anchor,  I'll  seize  a 
blue  shirt  to  the  fore-lift  and  that  'ull  bring  a  man- 
o'-war's  boat  alongside." 

"Why?"  she  asked. 

"  Because  it  is  the  merchant  seaman's  signal  that 
he  wants  to  join  the  white  ensign,  and  the  naval 
officer  is  always  greedy  for  men." 

But  this  was  spoken  many  years  ago.  The  signal 
of  the  blue  shirt  has  been  hauled  down  and  buried 
with  many  other  customs  under  the  thin  white  wake 
of  the  metal  battleship. 

"  Why  do  you  want  a  naval  boat ;  would  not  any 
other  boat  do?  "  asked  Julia. 

"  No ;  the  Royal  Navy  claims  no  salvage  and  gets 
none.  Any  other  boat  would  make  a  claim  for 
assistance,  and  I  mean  that  our  cake  shall  be  whole." 


«f»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <& 

He  brought  two  chairs  out  of  the  cabin,  gave  one 
to  Julia  and  took  one  himself,  with  his  hand  on  a 
spoke.  Their  faithful  friend  the  dog  lay  in  the 
westering  sun  beside  them ;  and  now  they  talked  of 
what  they  should  do  in  the  night,  and  came  to  terms 
about  the  discipline  of  the  crew  whilst  the  ship  kept 
the  sea. 

"  I  shall  be  on  deck  as  much  as  I  can,"  said  he. 
"  I  must  sleep  on  deck;  I  do  not  choose  to  lie  with- 
out shelter  during  my  watch  below.  I'll  bring  a 
hen-coop  aft,  thoroughly  cleanse  it,  and  put  a  mat- 
tress into  it  after  knocking  away  the  rails.  That's 
a  good  idea !  " 

"  Excellent !  "  she  exclaimed ;  "  and  clear  out 
another  hen-coop  for  me.  How  romantic  to  sleep 
in  a  hen-coop !  "  and  she  laughed  softly,  looking 
lovingly  at  him. 

"  If  I  should  crow  in  my  sleep  whilst  you're  at 
the  wheel  you'll  know  that  I  am  being  hen-pecked." 

"  Can't  we  put  Sailor  to  some  use?  "  she  asked. 

The  animal  lifted  his  head  to  the  sound  of  his 
name,  and  all  was  intelligence  in  his  soft,  pathetic 
eyes. 

"  You  shall  sleep  on  a  mattress  at-  the  foot  of  the 
companion-steps,  where  you  will  be  sheltered.  I 
have  an  idea.  Are  you  strong  enough  to  bring  your 
mattress  out  of  your  berth  and  place  it  on  deck  with 
a  pillow?  " 

"  Chaw !  "  she  answered,  with  a  shrug.  "  I  have 
lifted  an  old  woman  out  of  bed.  What  do  you  want 
me  to  do?" 

"  Spread  your  mattress  on  the  port  side  of  the 
steps,  get  a  pillow,  and  stretch  yourself  upon  it,  and 
sing  out  when  you're  ready." 


«$»  Practical  Seamanship       *&•        279 

She  instantly  rose  and  descended;  the  dog  was 
about  to  follow  her. 

"  Lie  down,  Sailor !  "  and  the  dog  obeyed. 

In  a  few  moments  the  clear  voice  sounded,  "  On 
deck  there !  " 

"Hallo!" 

"  All  ready,  George." 

"  Shut  your  eyes  and  seem  asleep.  Sailor !  "  The 
dog  immediately  stood  up  with  an  inquiring  look, 
ears  slightly  lifted.  "Fetch  her,  Sailor!  fetch 
her!" 

The  dog  trembled,  and  looked  with  a  sort  of 
passion  about  him. 

"  Fetch  her,  Sailor !  fetch  her !  "  shouted  Hardy, 
pointing  down  the  hatch. 

The  noble  creature  sprang  down  the  steps.  In  a 
moment  Julia  began  to  scream. 

"  Oh !  "  he  heard  her  say ;  "  he  is  tearing  my  dress, 
George." 

"  Come  up  with  him ;  it  is  all  right,"  he  bellowed. 
And  up  came  the  girl  with  her  skirt  in  the  mouth  of 
the  dog,  who  tried  to  get  in  front  of  her  to  drag  her 
as  though  they  were  both  in  the  sea  and  awash ;  but 
she  rilled  the  way  and  the  Newfoundland  could  not 
jam  past  her. 

The  dog  held  on  till  she  was  seated ;  he  had  not 
torn  her  dress,  and  the  sweethearts  fell  into  a  fit 
of  immoderate  laughter,  whilst  the  dog  by  panto- 
mime of  tail  and  motion  exhibited  every  mark  of 
satisfaction.  •  • 

"  What  a  wonderful  animal !  "  said  Julia. 

"  That  breed  is  cleverer  than  we  are,"  answered 
Hardy,  "  and  as  humane  as  angels.  He  understood 
me;  it  was  like  bidding  him  jump  overboard  after 
you." 


280  <&  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  *f» 

"  But  what  is  your  object,  George?  " 

"  I  might  want  you,  and  if  you  are  in  a  sound 
sleep  and  a  breeze  is  blowing  in  low  thunder  over 
the  companion-way,  I  might  yelp  myself  into  the 
disease  of  laryngitis  without  awakening  you.  The 
dog  rests  beside  me  and  is  at  hand  to  call  you." 

"  You  are  very  clever,  George.  The  more  I  see  of 
you  the  cleverer  you  become.  Dear  old  Sailor !  must 
he  lie  beside  you  on  deck  unsheltered  ?  " 

"  I  shall  lash  an  empty  cask  to  the  grating ;  there 
is  plenty  of  sailcloth  forward,  and  he  shall  have  a 
kennel.  Take  the  wheel,  Julia;  there  is  something 
to  be  done  before  the  night  falls.  The  breeze 
freshens  too;  hurrah,  see  how  straight  the  white 
race  flies  astern  of  her!  Under  such  canvas  too! 
Keep  her  steady  and  don't  be  afraid." 

"  Afraid !  "  she  answered  with  a  glance  at  him, 
which  made  him  feel  as  if  he  was  married. 

He  walked  forward,  laughing,  trusting  his  girl  as 
though  she  had  been  an  able  seaman.  A  great  deal 
of  confusion  followed  when  he  caught  a  few  hens  out 
of  one  coop  and  thrust  them  into  the  other.  Such 
heartrending  screams  of  despair,  and  two  cocks  and 
five  or  six  hens  in  the  other  coop  strained  their 
throats  in  clamorous  sympathy,  and  you  could  have 
sworn  that  the  whole  crowd  of  them,  cocks  and  all, 
had  just  laid  eggs.  When  the  hen-coop  was  clear 
he  passed  his  knife  through  the  lashings,  fetched  an 
axe,  swept  the  bars  out  of  their  fixings  to  the  ac- 
companiment of  the  orchestra  in  the  other  hen-coop, 
drew  a  bucket  of  water,  and  with  a  scrubbing  brush 
thoroughly  cleansed  the  dirty  thing,  which  had  the 
width  of  a  trunk,  though  much  longer. 

He  found  it  was  heavy  to  drag,  being  a  somewhat 


«9»  Practical  Seamanship      «$»         281 

solid  structure,  so  he  called  the  Newfoundland  to 
him  and  harnessed  him  to  the  coop  by  the  watch- 
tackle.  The  dog  tugged  with  the  vigour  of  a  man, 
Hardy  shoved,  and  the  hen-coop  rushed  along  the 
deck  right  aft,  whilst  Julia  with  tears  of  laughter 
in  her  eyes  kept  the  speeding  ship  to  her  course 
as  though  she  had  done  nothing  but  steer  ever  since 
she  could  stand.  But  there  was  more  yet  to  be 
done,  and  the  sun  was  setting.  He  took  the  cooked 
meat  out  of  the  coppers  and  placed  the  steaming 
mass  on  a  dish  until  it  should  grow  cold. 

Suddenly  his  ear  was  taken  by  a  strange  noise  of 
hissing  over  the  side;  it  was  something  more  than 
the  sheeting  of  the  ship  through  the  soft  whiteness 
she  made.  It  was  like  a  continuous  snarl  threading 
the  blowing  off  of  steam. 

He  looked  over  the  rail  and  saw  the  boat  they 
had  come  aboard  in  from  the  brig  rushing  with 
comet-like  velocity  close  alongside,  like  a  little  child 
swept  to  her  home  by  the  enraged  mother  that  had 
lost  her. 

He  debated  a  minute,  and  then  said  to  himself, 
"  She  is  of  no  use,  neither  she,  nor  the  fresh  water, 
nor  the  grub  that  is  in  her." 

He  was  making  his  way  into  the  channels  to  cast 
the  painter  adrift. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  shrieked  Julia  at  the 
wheel.  He  explained. 

"  If  I  see  you  in  the  water  behind  me  I  shall  jump 
after  you,"  she  cried,  with  a  look  of  alarm  and  real 
anxiety. 

"  Can't  I  drop  into  a  ship's  chains  without  going 
overboard  ?  "  he  answered,  and  disappeared,  and  a 
short  scream  at  the  wheel  attended  his  going. 


282  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <& 

The  boat  was  easily  released,  and  to  the  great  joy 
of  Julia  the  manly  face  of  her  sailor  was  once  more 
visible.  They  both  watched  the  boat  as  she  receded. 

"  She'll  be  fallen  in  with,"  said  Hardy,  "  and  some 
skipper  will  log  her  and  make  a  fearful  mystery  of 
her.  Every  tragic  possibility  of  shipwreck  is  in  her. 
She  is  the  issue  of  fire,  collision,  the  leak,  the  meteor- 
cloven  craft  —  " 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  interrupted  Julia. 

"  The  ship's  off  her  course,"  said  Hardy.  "That's 
quite  right.  Three  spokes  did  it.  Now  look  how 
fair  the  compass  course  points  to  the  lubber's  mark." 

"  What's  a  meteor-cloven  ship  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  never  heard  of  a  big  ship  having  been  sunk  by 
a  meteor,"  he  answered;  "  but  I  have  been  told  of 
a  great  stone  dropping  out  of  the  sky  with  the 
meteoric  flash  of  a  fallen  star  plump  through  the 
hatchway  of  a  schooner  and  down  through  her: 
the  sailors  took  to  the  pumps  and  then  to  the 
boats.  That's  what  I  mean." 

And  now  he  must  prepare  a  bed  for  himself  and 
the  dog.  He  could  not  find  an  empty  barrel,  but 
just  against  the  windlass  the  cook  or  the  cabin 
servant  had  placed  for  firewood  perhaps,  or  for  other 
reasons,  a  big  empty  case,  which  might  have  con- 
tained wine  or  commodities  of  some  sort.  This 
placed  on  its  side  would  do,  and  as  it  was  too  heavy 
for  him  to  carry,  and  too  rough  for  him  to  shove,  he 
harnessed  the  Newfoundland  to  it  as  to  the  coop, 
and  Sailor,  helped  by  Hardy,  ran  the  case  close 
against  the  wheel. 

"  The  ship  is  sailing  very  fast,"  said  Julia. 

"  A  little  over  five  knots,  perhaps,"  answered 
Hardy.  "  We  wants  legs,  my  love.  Blow,  blow,  my 


«$»  Practical  Seamanship       «$»        283 

sweet  breeze."  And  he  sang  to  himself  whilst  he 
got  the  box  on  to  its  side  and  secured  it  to  the 
grating. 

"  Now  for  your  bed,  Sailor,  and  then  we'll  go  to 
supper." 

He  reflected,  and  remembered  that  there  was  straw 
in  the  fore-peak  for  the  use  of  the  old  sow  that  had 
been  and  was  gone  —  recollect  that  he  had  been 
mate  of  this  ship,  and  knew  exactly  where  to  look 
for  what  he  wanted.  He  dropped  into  the  fore-peak, 
which  was  like  descending  into  a  hell  of  smells  and 
the  mutter  of  troubled  water,  and  reappeared  with 
his  arms  full  of  straw,  transforming  Julia's  wistful 
face  into  beaming  pleasure,  for  his  briefest  dis- 
appearance struck  a  sort  of  horror  to  her  heart. 

Thus  was  the  Newfoundland  housed,  and  before 
making  up  his  own  bed  in  the  hen-coop  the  sweet- 
hearts went  to  supper. 

The  girl  had  been  standing  some  time  at  the  wheel. 
It  was  proper  she  should  be  relieved,  so  Hardy 
grasped  the  spokes  whilst  Julia  went  below,  followed 
by  the  dog,  to  fetch  something  to  eat.  She  arrived 
with  wine,  biscuits,  jam,  and  tinned  meats.  You 
will  remember  that  she  had  been  an  under-stew- 
ardess,  and  was  used  to  waiting  upon  people.  But 
that  was  not  all :  she  had  nursed  old  ladies,  had 
for  a  very  lean  wage  indeed  washed,  dressed,  and 
walked  out  with  children;  in  fact,  she  long  after- 
ward told  Hardy  that,  always  having  emigration  in 
her  mind,  she  had  worked  at  a  laundry  for  some 
weeks.  In  point  of  service,  therefore,  she  was  well 
equipped  for  life,  and  Hardy  saw  in  her  the  helpful 
woman,  the  wise  and  devoted  wife,  beautiful  in 
figure  and,  now  that  she  was  happy,  most  engaging 
in  face. 


284  «•»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

The  three  of  the  ship's  company  ate  their  supper, 
and  two  of  them  talked  and  watched  the  sunset. 
The  further  north  you  go  the  greater  is  the  glory  of 
the  sun's  departure;  yet  yonder  was  a  magnificent 
scene  of  golden  pavilions  hung  with  tapestries  of 
deep  blue  ether ;  the  flight  of  the  eastern  cloud  was 
like  incense  pouring  from  the  evening  star,  unrisen 
or  invisible:  the  vapour  fled  on  the  wings  of  the 
wind  to  enrich  the  light  in  the  west  by  duplication 
of  scarlet  splendour,  and  the  ship  blew  steadily 
along  controlled  by  the  hand  of  Hardy,  who  was 
sometimes  fed  by  Julia. 

All  about  was  the  soft,  sweet  noise  of  creaming 
seas ;  the  brig  astern  had  vanished  into  airy  nothing, 
and  the  York  sailed  a  kingdom  of  her  own. 

"  Will  there  be  a  moon?  "  asked  Julia. 

"  Between  nine  and  ten,"  he  answered.  "  A  slice 
of  moon.  We  can  do  without  her.  There  is  light  in 
starshine,  and  we  can  do  without  that  also.  I  must 
light  the  binnacle  lamp  and  get  the  side-lights  over. 
I  thank  God  that  this  wind  promises  steadiness.  Yet 
it  may  shift,  and  then  I  shall  want  the  dog  to  awake 
you  whilst  I  see  what  a  single  pair  of  arms  can  do 
with  the  braces." 

"  Do  you  think  I  shall  not  hear  you  if  you  shout  ?  " 
said  she. 

"  I'll  not  chance  it,"  he  answered. 

"  Do  you  believe  we  shall  carry  this  ship  home  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  I'll  not  hope,  for  hoping  is  bragging,  but  we'll 
try,  Julia.  A  man  cannot  add  a  cubit  to  his  mother's 
gift  of  stature  by  standing  on  stilts;  but  we'll  try, 
Julia." 

"  Who  can  do  more  ?  "  she  asked. 


«$»  Practical  Seamanship       «$»        285 

"  Hold  this  wheel  while  I  light  the  lamps." 

He  set  about  this  job  and  speedily  despatched  it, 
knowing  exactly  where  to  lay  his  hands  upon  every- 
thing he  wanted,  then  brought  his  mattress  up  along 
with  the  rug  and  jammed  it  into  his  hen-coop,  and 
lay  down.  It  was  rather  a  tight  fit  with  the  mat- 
tress, but  it  gave  him  the  length  he  wanted,  and 
if  he  did  not  start  in  his  sleep  he  need  not  knock  his 
head  against  the  ceiling.  He  carefully  secured  the 
hen-coop  to  belaying  pins. 

"  That'll  provide,"  said  he,  "  against  being  taken 
aback." 

He  then  went  below  and  lighted  the  cabin  lamp, 
and  saw  to  Julia's  bed  by  readjustment  of  the 
mattress  clear  of  the  draughts  circling  down  the 
companionway.  He  fetched  covering  for  her,  and 
it  was  for  her  to  make  herself  comfortable  when  the 
time  came. 

By  this  hour  it  was  dark ;  there  was  no  light  upon 
the  deep  save  the  musket-like  wink  of  the  sea  flash. 
But  the  stars  swarmed  in  brilliant  processions  be- 
twixt the  clouds  over  the  mastheads,  and  their  subtle 
light  was  in  the  air,  and  you  saw  things  dimly.  The 
Newfoundland  was  asleep  in  his  kennel  beside  the 
wheel.  Julia,  who  had  come  aboard  with  nothing 
on  but  the  clothes  she  stood  in,  fetched  the  captain's 
cloak  from  the  captain's  cabin.  It  was  a  long  coat 
with  a  warm  cape,  and  I  call  it  a  cloak  because  it 
wasn't  a  great-coat.  It  clothed  her  to  her  little  feet, 
and  she  sat  as  warm  in  it  as  in  the  embrace  of 
eiderdown. 

"How  shall  we  manage  to  keep  watch?"  she 
asked. 

"  I  shall  keep  the  deck  till  twelve,"  he  answered; 


286  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

"  I  have  a  watch,  and  there  is  the  binnacle  light 
which  from  time  to  time  will  want  trimming.  Sailor 
will  call  you  at  twelve  —  see  now  his  use  ?  And  I'll 
trim  the  lights,  and  lie  close  beside  you  there  for 
a  couple  of  hours,  for  I  can  do  with  very  little  sleep, 
and  the  more  sleep  you  can  get  the  better,  because 
you  will  keep  strong  and  will  be  able  to  steer  in  the 
day  whilst  I  take  an  off-shore  spell  in  my  coop." 

"  If  I  felt  I  could  sleep,  I  would  go  and  lie  down 
at  once,"  she  answered;  "  but  I  love  to  sit  and  talk 
with  you.  What  time  is  it,  George?  " 

"  Nearly  half-past  eight,"  he  answered,  putting 
his  watch  to  the  binnacle. 

"  Grant  me  till  nine,  I  may  then  be  sleepy.  But 
I  feel  as  if  that  sleep  of  drug  was  going  to  suffice  me 
a  year." 

"  Oh,  my  heart,  am  not  I  rejoiced  that  you  should 
be  with  me!  "  he  exclaimed,  in  a  soft  and  melodious 
note  of  love.  "  Think  if  that  madman  had  missed 
the  brig  and  sailed  on!  " 

She  shuddered  and  answered,  "  I  dare  not  think." 
Then  after  a  pause  she  said,  "  Suppose  a  steamer 
came  in  sight,  wouldn't  she  tow  us  home  ?  " 

"  I  wouldn't  give  her  the  chance." 

"Why?" 

"  She  would  demand  salvage,  and  get  it." 

"  It  is  shameful,"  she  exclaimed,  "  that  a  ship 
should  be  paid  for  helping  a  ship  in  distress." 

"  The  shipowner  knows  no  shame,"  answered 
Hardy,  "  and  neither  does  his- dumb  confederate, 
the  underwriter.  One  builds  a  jerry  ship  to  sink, 
and  the  other  pins  a  policy  on  to  the  villain's  back 
that  he  may  sleep  whether  his  ship  goes  down  or 
not." 


«$»  Practical  Seamanship       «f»        287 

It  was  strange  to  look  along  the  decks  and  witness 
no  figure  of  man.  No  shape  of  seaman  was  on  the 
forecastle  to  extinguish  a  thousand  stars  as  the  jib- 
booms  rose  pointing  to  the  sky;  no  shadow  of  man 
stirred  in  the  waist  or  the  main-deck.  The  mighty 
loneliness  of  the  deep  was  in  this  ship  from  the  wheel 
to  where  the  forecastle  rails  clasped  hands  above 
the  figure-head.  But  sentience  was  in  her  and  she 
knew  it,  and  nobly  confessed  the  spirit  of  control 
by  the  glad,  direct  and  cleaving  shear  of  her  stem. 

Happy  is  the  sailor  who  can  sit  beside  his  sweet- 
heart on  board  ship  on  a  fine  night  and  discourse 
of  love  and  other  matters  without  dread  of  the  eye 
of  the  master-mariner.  This  couple  talked  of  the 
safe  arrival  of  the  ship.  They  would  buy  a  little 
cottage;  they  would  not  go  to  sea  any  more.  It  is 
always  a  cottage  well  inshore  that  is  the  sailor's 
dream.  It  was  our  glorious  Nelson's  for  many 
years ;  witness  his  letters  to  his  wife,  whom  he  loved 
before  the  traitress  wound  her  brilliant  coils  round 
the  hero's  heart,  and  numbed  the  loyalty  of  its  pulse 
to  one  who  had  cherished  him  in  sickness  and  was 
his  dearest  one  when  the  shadow  of  his  life  was 
yet  short  in  the  sun  of  his  glory. 

The  dust  of  the  shooting  star  glittered  on  high; 
the  steady  voice  of  the  night  wind  filled  the  shrouds 
with  the  melodies  of  invisible  spirits;  the  white 
wake  gleamed  astern  like  the  dusty  highway  which 
is  the  road  to  home ;  the  softly  plunging  bows  awoke 
the  minstrelsy  of  the  surge.  It  was  night  upon  the 
Atlantic,  and  no  twinkle  of  side-lamp  was  to  be 
seen  upon  the  sea  line. 

At  nine  by  Hardy's  watch,  Julia  kissed  her  sweet- 
heart's lips  and  held  him  by  the  hand  a  little. 


288  ^  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  *» 

"  Good  night,  good  night,"  she  said ;  "  I  will  say 
a  prayer  before  I  sleep." 

"  Never  forget  that,"  answered  Hardy.  "  Be  sure 
it  is  He  that  hath  made  us  and  not  we  ourselves. 
Pray  to  him  and  bless  him  and  thank  him,  and 
his  love  will  be  with  us." 

Is  this  the  common  talk  of  the  sea?  Do  Smollett 
and  Marryat  make  their  heroes  converse  like  this? 
Thrust  your  hands  into  your  ribs,  ye  ribald  crew, 
and  laugh  with  godless  merriment  at  this  present- 
ment of  a  sailor  who  was  a  gentleman,  who  feared 
God,  to  whom  the  helplessness  of  his  companion 
was  no  appeal  to  the  heart  that  loved  her,  respected 
her,  and  desired  that  she  should  be  true  to  herself 
and  to  him. 

He  was  alone  at  the  wheel,  and  now  she  was 
gone  to  rest  and  the  dog  was  asleep  he  was  alone 
in  the  ship,  but  he  could  keep  a  lookout  as  well 
as  the  dog,  and  the  dog  would  not  be  called  upon 
to  serve  until  the  girl  was  alone  at  the  wheel  whilst 
her  lover  slept. 

Many  thoughts  were  this  fine  young  sailor's;  he 
was  full  of  hope  and  courage,  and  often  bent  his 
mind  to  shrewd  contemplation  of  contingency  —  the 
shift  of  the  breeze,  the  head  wind,  the  gale,  and 
other  gay  humours  and  tragic  scowls  of  the  life. 
But  the  winch  was  four  men,  and  the  watch-tackle 
a  little  company  of  hands,  and  he  did  not  despair. 
Sometimes  he  meditated  on  the  port  he  should  make ; 
if  it  came  to  the  worst,  then,  when  in  the  English 
Channel,  he  would  shape  a  course  for  Ramsgate 
Harbour  and  run  her  on  the  mud,  and  no  man  must 
be  suffered  to  board  her,  for  the  money  of  the  safety 


«£>  Practical  Seamanship       «£»       289 

of  the  ship  was  to  be  his  and  hers,  and  that  was  the 
settled  resolution  of  his  soul. 

When  twelve  o'clock  came  round  he  did  not  wish 
to  sleep;  he  would  have  chosen  rather  that  Julia 
should  have  slumbered  until  dawn.  But  the  refresh- 
ment of  rest  was  an  imperious  demand  with  which 
he  must  comply  for  his  own  and  for  the  sake  of  the 
girl,  the  safety  of  their  noble  companion,  the  safety 
of  the  ship  and  her  cargo.  He  thought  he  would 
try  Julia  by  calling,  and  he  shouted  four  or  five  times, 
but,  as  he  had  foreseen,  the  sweep  of  the  wind  broke 
his  voice  to  pieces  in  the  companionway,  and  her 
ears  were  blocked  with  sleep. 

The  dog  started  up  and  came  to  his  side  at  the 
outcry  of  the  man.  "  Fetch  her,  Sailor !  fetch  her !  " 
he  cried,  pointing  to  the  companion-hatch. 

The  Newfoundland  barked  and  seemed  to  wonder. 

"  Fetch  her,  Sailor !  fetch  her !  "  he  roared  again, 
still  pointing. 

This  time  the  dog  understood.  He  sprang  to  the 
ladder  and  vanished,  and  a  moment  later  Julia's  cries 
were  piercing.  But  it  was  merely  the  noise  of  terror 
such  as  would  be  excited  in  a  girl  awakened  from 
a  sound  sleep  by  the  resolute  drag  of  a  dog's  teeth. 
She  understood  the  thing  in  a  minute,  patted  the  dog, 
who  was  dragging  her  by  her  skirt  to  the  ladder, 
snatched  up  her  hat  and  the  captain's  cloak,  and 
arrived  on  deck  with  the  dog,  whose  tail  timed  the 
wag  of  the  stars  over  the  mastheads. 

"  Have  you  slept?  "  he  asked. 

"  Too  well,"  she  answered.  "  I  screamed  because 
Sailor  broke  in  upon  a  nightmare  and  fitted  it." 

"Will  you  be  able  to  hold  the  wheel?" 

"I'll  try.    What  is  the  time?" 


290  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

"  After  midnight  —  nearly  one  bell,"  he  answered. 

She  stood  at  the  wheel,  and  her  firm  grasp  was 
full  of  promise  of  control. 

"  Is  that  the  course?  "  she  inquired,  looking  into 
the  compass. 

"  Yes,  and  keep  her  to  it  as  best  you  can  by  the 
starshine  whilst  I  trim  the  lamp." 

"  What  is  our  pace,  dear?  " 

"  Six  and  a  half  at  least,"  he  answered. 

He  made  haste  to  trim  the  lamp  and  saw  to  the 
side-lights,  and  his  spirits  were  high  and  his  hope 
more  exalted  yet  when  he  saw  how  well  the  girl 
steered.  A  big  ship  for  a  girl  to  control !  And  all 
the  sweet  archness  of  her  incomparable  posture  was 
unconsciously  expressed  to  her  lover  as  he  flashed 
the  light  over  her  before  adjusting  it  for  the  illumi- 
nation of  the  card. 

"  Now  for  a  little  supper,"  said  he,  "  then  I  shall 
lie  down." 

He  fetched  some  food  and  wine,  and  ate  himself 
whilst  he  helped  Julia  to  eat;  the  dog  was  remem- 
bered; and  all  the  while  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed 
in  critical  attention  upon  the  girl's  handling  of  the 
wheel. 

"  Sailor,  go  forward  and  keep  a  lookout,  sir,"  he 
exclaimed,  and  this  was  an  order  which,  as  you 
know,  the  dog  understood,  and  was  accustomed  to 
obey.  He  had  supped  and  was  thankful,  and,  faith- 
ful to  his  duty  as  Tom  Bowline,  the  brave  New- 
foundland trotted  forward  to  the  forecastle,  and 
took  up  a  position  of  lookout  betwixt  the  knight- 
heads. 

"  Here  is  my  watch,  Julia,"  said  Hardy.  "  Call 
me  at  half-past  two  —  but  sooner,  at  the  instant  of 


«f»  Practical  Seamanship        «$»        291 

need,  if  your  arm  should  weary  or  the  breeze  shift 
and  drive  you  off  your  course.  I  am  a  sailor  and 
used  to  keeping  my  ears  open  in  sleep.  I  am  close 
beside  you  there,  and  your  first  cry  will  bring  me 
out  like  a  cork  to  the  drag  of  a  corkscrew." 

"  I  will  call  you  at  half-past  two,"  she  answered. 
"  She  is  as  easy  to  steer  as  a  boat.  Look  how  steady 
the  course  swings  at  the  mark  there !  " 

He  paused  and  gazed  round  him.  The  white 
cloud  was  speeding  swiftly  across  the  stars,  and  the 
ship  hummed  with  the  wind  as  the  thrill  of  its  ebon 
lines  of  gear,  of  shroud  and  stay  and  back-stay, 
shook  its  transport  into  the  plank.  The  glass  was 
steady  —  he  had  seen  to  that  when  he  went  below 
for  the  midnight  supper;  and  there  was  no  sign  of 
worse,  or  changeful,  or  other  weather  within  or  on 
the  verge  of  the  mighty  liquid  sweep,  whose  heart 
was  the  ship,  carrying  onwards  always  the  illimitable 
girdle  on  which  she  floated,  the  central  figure  of  the 
night. 

Hardy  got  into  the  hen-coop  —  a  tight  fit ;  but  in 
it  he  was  well  sheltered,  for  the  coop  was  under  the 
lee  of  the  weather-bulwark.  He  drew  an  old  coat 
he  had  brought  up  over  him,  pillowed  his  head  on 
the  rolled-up  flag  he  had  thrown  into  the  hen-coop, 
and  in  a  minute  was  asleep. 

A  sailor's  sleep  is  sound,  and  sacred  as  the  slumber 
of  death  to  his  messmates  and  shipmates  as  they 
mutter  softly  round  about  him  and  tread  the  upper 
plank  with  airy  feet  that  all  shall  be  hushed  in  the 
forecastle —  hushed  unless' it  be  the  crying  of  the 
wind  or  the  sullen  thunder  of  the  bow-sea,  or  the 
cries  of  the  watch  on  high  furling  or  reefing  to  the 
trumpet  commands  of  the  quarter-deck.  Nothing 


292  «*»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

in  all  ocean  romance  is  comparable  to  this  picture 
of  a  full-rigged  ship  in  command  of  a  girl  who  is 
alone  at  the  wheel  whilst  her  lover  sleeps,  whilst  a 
dog  on  the  forecastle-head  watches  the  ocean  line 
with  faithful  eye  for  the  sparkle  of  light,  for  the 
dim  sheen  of  canvas,  for  the  stream  of  smoke 
spangled  with  the  stars  of  the  furnace,  that  shall 
make  him  bark  in  barks  as  truthful  of  indication  as 
the  strokes  of  the  tongue  upon  the  ship's  bell. 

The  wind  held  a  sweet,  true  breeze  as  Hardy  had 
foreseen,  whilst  that  brave  little  heart  kept  the  ship's 
course  steady  to  the  lubber's  point.  She  was  not 
tired,  sleep  had  refreshed  her;  standing  was  no 
trial;  she  was  warmly  draped,  and  felt  a  sort  of 
glory  in  this  occupation  of  sea-throne,  which  enabled 
her  to  do  her  duty  and  to  hold  her  sweetheart  in 
tranquil  and  most  necessary  repose.  She  was  quick 
in  intelligence,  and  the  sea  was  small  and  its  weight 
was  of  the  summer;  and  she  found  a  woman's  de- 
light in  her  power  of  governing,  for  the  ship 
answered  to  her  white  hand  with  a  courtier-like 
grace;  she  felt  to  be  queen  of  the  lordly  fabric,  and 
her  spell  at  the  wheel  was  a  triumph  of  British 
girlhood. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

THE   BOAT-FULL 

IT  was  hard  upon  half-past  two  in  the  morning. 
The  breeze  had  been  blowing  steadily  throughout, 
and  the  white  pace  of  the  ship  was  more  than  six 
knots  in  the  hour.  Julia  put  her  hand  into  her 
pocket  and  pulled  out  Hardy's  watch  and  saw  what 
o'clock  it  was ;  the  stars  flashed  over  the  mastheads 
with  each  floating  reel  of  the  buoyant,  girl-controlled 
fabric ;  the  silver  dust  of  the  speeding  star  vanishing 
in  a  length  of  fainting  light  scored  the  deep  mid- 
night blue  between  the  clouds;  the  voice  of  the 
ocean  rejoicing  in  the  swinging  dance  of  the  breeze 
filled  the  air  with  sounds  of  the  cataract,  the  foam  of 
the  waterfall,  the  wrangle  of  the  freshet  with  the  sea. 

Suddenly,  far  forward  past  the  shadowy  arch  of 
the  fore-course,  you  heard  the  deep  bay  of  a  great 
dog.  A  ship  was  in  sight! 

"  O  God !  "  cried  Julia  at  the  wheel,  interpreting 
the  deep-noted  thunder  of  the  great  creature,  "  What 
am  I  to  do?" 

But  such  a  bark  as  Sailor  could  deliver  was  not  to 
sound  unheeded  in  the  sleeping  ear  of  a  seaman. 
Hardy  started,  rolled  out  of  his  hen-coop,  and  was 
by  Julia's  side  in  a  few  pulses. 

"  I  see  her,"  he  shouted,  and  seizing  the  wheel  he 
put  it  hard  a-port. 

293 


294  *$*  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f* 

Then  on  the  port  bow  loomed  an  ashen  apparition 
with  one  red  light,  like  the  hideous  stare  of  a 
drunkard,  visible  in  the  stagger  of  the  bows.  It  was 
a  full-rigged  ship,  clothed  to  her  trucks  with  white 
canvas,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  distant.  She  was 
standing  to  the  southward  and  westward,  and  the 
red  eye  of  the  York  was  upon  her;  there  would 
have  been  no  collision,  but  Sailor's  voice  was  timely. 
Hardy  brought  the  ship  to  her  course  again,  and 
the  stranger  was  on  the  bow,  sliding  like  a  church- 
yard phantom  over  the  glimmering  tombstones  of 
the  deep. 

"  She  is  an  American,"  said  Hardy. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  asked  Julia. 

"  She  is  clothed  in  cotton,  that  is  why  I  know. 
What  a  noble  lookout  is  Sailor.  Didn't  you  see 
her?" 

"I  see  her  now,  but  not  before  now,"  she 
answered. 

"  Brave  dog,"  cried  Hardy. 

He  called  to  him  and  the  Newfoundland  came 
rushing  aft,  with  many  tokens  visible  in  the  star- 
shine  of  the  emotion  of  satisfaction  which  good  dogs 
feel  when  they  have  done  their  duty. 

"  You  are  wearied  out,  Julia,"  said  Hardy.  "  Do 
you  feel  as  stiff  with  standing  as  a  shroud  of  wire- 
rigging?" 

"  It  is  half-past  two,"  answered  the  girl.  "  Here 
is  your  watch,  George.  Lie  down,  dearest,  and  I 
will  stand  here  for  another  hour;  I  am  not  tired." 

"  Hold  the  wheel  whilst  I  trim  this  light,"  was 
his  answer.  When  this  was  done  he  said,  "  Now 
to  bed,  my  lass." 


«$»  The  Boat  -  Full          «$»         295 

She  heard  command  in  his  voice,  and  answered, 
"  I  should  love  to  lie  in  your  hen-coop." 

"  Take  off  your  hat  and  get  into  it.  Tis  snug 
enough.  Pull  the  jacket  over  you,  and  sleep — sleep 
—  sleep ;  and  then  you  will  be  able  to  thank  Mary 
Queen  who  sent  the  sleep  that  slid  into  your  soul. 
But  first  go  below  and  get  a  little  wine  and  food." 

She  was  as  obedient  as  a  good  sailor,  refreshed 
herself  in  the  cabin  where  the  lamp  was  burning,  and 
returned  with  a  glass  of  rum  and  water  and  a  biscuit. 
"  And  my  pipe,"  said  he.  And  he  told  her  where  to 
find  the  pipe  and  the  tobacco. 

Before  she  got  into  the  hen-coop  he  said  to  her : 

"  I  wish  I  could  teach  the  dog  to  steer ;  but  that  is 
impossible.  But  I  tell  you  what  —  when  those  yards 
need  trimming  I  shall  want  some  one  to  hold  on  to 
the  slack,  and  by  all  that's  good  Sailor  shall  do  it." 

"  Why  doesn't  God  enable  such  a  creature  as  this 
to  speak  as  we  do  ?  "  said  Julia.  "  It  has  the  mind — 
why  should  it  lack  the  voice,  when  even  the  filthiest 
cannibal  may  use  his  tongue  ?  " 

"  Get  you  to  bed,  Julia." 

She  crept  into  the  hen-coop,  wrapped  her  clothes 
about  her  legs,  pulled  the  sailor's  coat  over  her,  and 
lay  watching  her  lover. 

Hardy  stood  at  the  wheel  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth, 
and  the  dog  slept  in  his  kennel  alongside.  It  was 
not  for  long  that  Julia  was  allowed  to  sleep.  When 
it  was  a  quarter  before  four,  when  the  darkness  that 
grows  deeper  before  the  dawn  dwelt  like  a  sable 
vapour  upon  the  face  of  the  sea,  when  the  flash  of 
the  star  was  fast  in  its  westward  sweep,  and  the  red 
scar  of  moon  looked  dully  down  like  a  piece  of 
broken  glass  thick  stained,  through  which  the  crim,-1 


296  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f* 

son  splendour  above  drains  and  oozes,  the  wind 
shifted  suddenly  three  points;  'twas  then  almost 
abeam. 

He  called  to  the  girl.  Her  awakening  found  her 
astounded  by  her  situation.  Was  she  in  a  coffin? 
He  called  again,  and  the  saint-like  voice  of  love 
brought  her  from  her  sepulchre  of  hen-coop  with  an 
eager  cry  of,  "  I  am  wide  awake.  What  is  it?  " 

"  The  wind  has  shifted,  Julia.  Do  you  know  what 
I  mean?" 

"  The  wind  has  changed." 

"  Yes,  you  are  awake.    Take  hold  of  this  wheel." 

She  grasped  the  spokes.  The  dog  would  be  of 
no  use  then;  all  Hardy  could  do  was  to  slacken 
away  the  weather-braces  and  haul  taut  the  lee-braces 
as  well  as  a  single  pair  of  British  arms  could.  He 
clapped  on  the  watch-tackle  here  and  there,  and 
made  the  best  job  possible  under  the  circumstances ; 
but  he  was  bothered  by  the  want  of  somebody  to 
hold  on  to  the  slack.  However,  by  belaying  the 
watch-tackle  and  then  belaying  the  brace  he  in  a 
one-man  fashion  managed  it,  and  when  he  returned 
to  the  wheel  the  ship  slipped  to  her  course  again  with 
her  shortened  canvas  rap-full,  and  a  wake  like  a 
mill-race. 

"  Hurrah ! "  cried  Hardy,  with  a  slap  of  his 
thigh ;  "  storm  along,  old  Stormy !  Whilst  she 
creaks  she  holds !  I'll  teach  that  dog  this  morning  to 
pull  a  rope.  He  has  teeth  and  sense  and  some  sailors 
have  neither,  because  their  teeth  are  worn  out  by 
chewing  salt  junk,  and  the  crimp  drugs  their  brains 
till  the  skull  is  like  a  rotten  nut,  full  of  dust." 

"  It  is  my  turn  at  the  wheel,"  said  Julia. 

"  Just  you  go  and  turn  in,"  he  answered.    "  Here's 


«$»  The  Boat  -  Full          «f»         297 

the  skipper  and  there's  the  bed.  I  shall  take  an  off- 
shore spell  sometime  to-day.  Rest  till  breakfast- 
time,  and  then  you  shall  light  the  galley  fire,  and 
boil  some  coffee." 

She  crept  into  the  hen-coop  after  holding  the 
binnacle  lamp  to  his  pipe,  and  the  ship  moved  in 
the  glimmering  shadow  through  the  hour  of  dark- 
ness with  slightly  restless  yards  at  every  solemn 
plunge,  for,  like  the  figure  of  a  beautiful  woman,  she 
was  the  fairer  in  grace  and  the  easier  in  carriage 
when  moulded  by  the  fingers  of  art. 

Sunrise  is  beautiful  at  sea  on  a  fine  morning ;  the 
sky  ripples  with  silver  and  rose,  and  the  sea  uplifts 
its  fountain  note  of  rejoicing  as  that  great  imperial 
mystery  of  the  heavens,  the  sun,  floats  off  the  verge 
of  the  deep.  The  dawn  found  Hardy  at  the  wheel 
and  the  girl  asleep  in  the  hen-coop.  He  did  not 
curiously  seek  for  a  ship  in  sight,  for  he  did  not 
stand  in  need  of  help,  and  would  reject  it  if  offered. 
A  sail  was  twinkling  like  a  peak  of  iceberg  right 
abeam  to  starboard,  and  Hardy  looked  at  her,  and 
thought  of  twenty  other  things.  The  breeze  had 
slackened  slightly;  it  was  still  a  pleasant  summer 
breast  of  sea,  and  the  ship's  speed  was  four.  All 
plain  sail  might  have  given  her  seven,  and  the  wings 
of  the  stunsail  from  topgallant  yard-arm  to  swing- 
ing-boom end  might  have  helped  her  into  eight.  No 
matter!  She  was  homeward  bound,  and  there  was 
no  growler  in  her  ship's  company  if  it  was  not  the 
dog. 

When  Julia  came  out  of  her  strange  little  bedroom 
she  arose  like  Arethusa  in  Shelley's  poem :  rosy  and 
fire-eyed,  sweet  with  the  refreshment  of  slumber, 
and  sweeter  perhaps  to  a  man's  eye  because  she  was 


298  <9>  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «*» 

unadorned.  She  pressed  her  lips  to  her  sweetheart's 
cheek. 

"  Let  me  take  the  wheel,"  said  she,  "  while  you 
rest." 

"  Can  you  light  a  fire  ?  "  he  answered. 

She  looked  at  him  with  reproachful  wonder. 

"  What  cannot  I  do  ?  What  has  not  poverty  made 
me  do?" 

"  Will  you  light  the  galley  fire?  "  said  he,  "and  fill 
a  kettle  out  of  that  scuttle-butt,  boil  some  water,  and 
give  us  a  hot  drink  of  coffee?  Poor  old  Crummie 
is  dead  and  gone,  but  her  spirit  survives  in  tins,  and 
I  believe  there  is  some  preserved  milk  in  the  cabin." 

She  did  not  waste  much  time  in  lighting  the  galley 
fire.  Everything  was  at  hand.  Whilst  the  kettle 
was  boiling  she  fetched  food  from  the  cabin,  and 
on  top  of  the  dog's  kennel  made  some  little  display 
of  tablecloth,  cup  and  saucer,  and  knife  and  fork. 
This  disturbed  Sailor,  who  at  once  beheld  the  distant 
sail  and  saluted  it. 

"  You  shall  be  even  more  useful  than  that,"  said 
Hardy  to  the  dog.  "  This  morning  I  will  look  for 
the  key  of  the  safe  and  judge  of  the  value  of  the 
contents." 

"  It  is  pleasanter  than  yachting,"  exclaimed  Julia. 

"  We  have  to  cross  the  Bay,"  replied  Hardy.  "  It 
may  come  on  hard  from  the  east'ard  and  blow  us 
to  Boston." 

"  Is  it  always  rough  in  the  Bay  of  Biscay?  "  said 
the  girl. 

"  I  have  swept  up  and  down  it  often  in  my  life," 
replied  Hardy,  "  and  five  times  out  of  ten  we  were 
becalmed  on  it,  and  thankful  for  catspaws.  The 
thunder  of  the  Bay  continues  to  roar  loud  in  the 


«f»  The  Boat -Full          «$»         299 

song,  and  alarms  the  man  in  the  street  who  talks 
of  taking  shipping  south.  Let  him  be  hove  to  off 
the  Horn  in  fifty-eight  degrees  south.  Suppose  you 
see  if  the  kettle  boils." 

They  made  an  excellent  breakfast  and  so  did  the 
dog.  Hardy  ate  and  held  the  wheel,  the  ship,  as 
though  in  love  with  her  people,  almost  steered  her- 
self. There  would  come  a  change;  the  God-given 
mood  of  the  sea  is  sweet,  it  is  the  weather  that 
breaks  her  heart.  As  a  drunken  husband  seizes  his 
pale  and  pretty  wife  by  the  hair,  and  flogs  her  into 
shrieks  and  madness,  so  does  the  weather  serve  the 
ocean.  It  is  good  for  the  fish  who  breathe  thereby, 
but  bad  for  the  passenger  at  whose  white,  overhang- 
ing face  the  invisible  eye  of  the  fish  is  uplifted 
languishingly. 

"Now,  Julia,"  said  Hardy,  "  hold  the  wheel  whilst 
I  teach  the  dog  a  lesson  in  practical  seamanship." 

He  stepped  to  the  mizzen-royal  halliards  and 
called  to  the  dog,  which  followed.  He  cast  the  rope 
off  the  pin,  but  kept  one  turn  under  the  pin,  and  said 
to  the  dog: 

"  Seize  it  and  pull !  "  holding  out  the  slack. 

The  dog  with  much  wagging  of  tail,  as  though  he 
reckoned  that  Hardy  meant  some  caper-cutting, 
seized  the  rope  with  his  teeth.  It  was  now  a  job. 
He  wanted  the  dog  to  pull  at  the  rope,  so  that  when 
he  swigged  off  at  the  halliards  the  dog  by  dragging 
would  keep  the  slack  taut  as  though  strained  by 
human  hands.  The  intelligence  of  the  Newfound- 
land is  proverbial  and  marvellous,  but  it  took  Hardy 
all  an  hour  to  make  the  noble  creature  see  what  it 
was  expected  to  do.  He  then  did  it,  and  Julia,  whose 
laugh  had  been  constant  throughout  the  procedure, 


300  «£»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <*> 

let  go  the  wheel  to  clap  her  hands,  whilst  Hardy 
with  purple  face  swigged  off  upon  the  halliards,  and 
the  dog,  with  forward  slanting  legs,  strained  the 
slack.  All  three  then  rested :  Hardy  steered  sitting, 
for,  as  I  have  told  you,  a  little  movement  of  the 
spokes  sufficed. 

After  smoking  a  pipe  whilst  Julia  looked  to  the 
galley  fire  —  not  with  a  view  to  cooking,  there  was 
plenty  to  eat  —  the  sailor  yielded  the  wheel  to  his 
sweetheart,  and  went  below  into  the  captain's  cabin 
to  explore  the  contents  of  the  safe.  First  of  all,  he 
was  to  find  the  key ;  this  proved  a  hunt,  running  into 
ten  minutes;  then  of  course  he  found  the  bunch  of 
keys  exactly  where  he  looked  last  and  should  have 
looked  at  first  —  in  the  captain's  desk.  The  key  of 
the  safe  was  one  of  a  few  on  a  ring.  When  he 
opened  the  safe  he  found  several  large  metal  boxes 
like  cash-boxes.  All  these  boxes  were  to  be  fitted 
by  the  keys  on  the  ring.  The  first  was  flush  with 
magnificent  jewelry  —  bracelets,  earrings,  rings ; 
and  the  flash  of  the  diamond  was  like  the  sparkle  of 
the  sea  under  the  sun.  The  second  metal  box  was 
filled  with  gold  chains  of  all  sorts  of  pattern,  some 
massive,  some  delicate  as  twine,  of  very  beautiful 
workmanship.  In  the  third  box  were  watches  and 
seals,  all  gold,  of  splendid  manufacture,  for  in  those 
days  the  watch  was  handsome,  the  mechanism  ex- 
quisite as  the  chronometer  of  to-day,  and  the  gold 
case  was  heavy.  The  fourth  and  last  box  contained 
curiosities,  such  as  a  Jew  dealer  with  a  yellow  grin 
of  awe  would  steal  out  of  some  mysterious  hiding- 
place  and  show  you  with  something  of  breathlessness 
and  a  frequent  glance  to  right  and  left,  and  some- 
times over  his  shoulder. 


«$»  The  Boat -Full          <+         301 

How  am  I  to  describe  these  things?  A  dis- 
coloured Nelson  tall  as  a  thumb,  commanding  the 
combined  fleets  in  a  cocked  hat,  on  a  large  seal  on 
which  was  graved  Trafalgar.  A  little  Napoleon  in 
dull  ivory  on  a  massive  gold  seal  with  indistinguish- 
able initials.  Very  old  rings,  very  old  gold  spoons 
—  but  this  is  not  an  auctioneer's  catalogue.  Hardy 
locked  everything  up. 

"Julia's  and  mine,"  said  he,  laughing  softly;  by 
which  he  meant  the  value  of  the  salvage  of  the 
precious  fal-lals. 

He  restored  the  ring  of  keys  to  the  desk  at  which 
he  glanced  with  a  reverential  eye,  for  he  saw  a  little 
packet  of  letters  in  faded  ink,  and  he  knew  that  there 
too  lay  in  a  little  circular  box  small  curls  of  the  hair 
of  the  dead  —  the  wife  and  the  little  drummer.  The 
captain  had  shown  them  to  him,  and  the  hair  was 
the  boy's  when  two  years  old.  Hardy  looked  at  the 
drum,  at  the  little  bed,  at  the  medicine-chest,  at  the 
little  clothes  hanging  at  the  bulkhead,  and  stepped 
out  with  a  sigh,  thinking  in  a  sort  of  blind  way  about 
the  mercy  of  God,  the  sufferings  of  madness,  and  the 
death  of  little  children. 

"  Have  you  found  any  jewels  ?  "  asked  Julia,  as 
she  stood  at  the  wheel. 

"  More  than  you  could  wear,  my  dear,"  he  an- 
swered, "if  you  were  as  many-limbed  and  many- 
headed  as  an  Indian  god." 

"  Are  they  worth  much  ?  " 

"I  am  not  a  pawnbroker,"  he  answered;  "be- 
sides, I  have  been  looking  at  the  Httle  drum  and  it 
has  drummed  the  jewelry  out  of  my  head." 

"  For  whom  were  the  jewels  intended?  " 


302  ^»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «£» 

"  There  is  always  a  market  for  trash  of  that  sort 
in  the  Colonies,"  he  replied. 

"  Why  don't  you  lie  down  and  get  some  sleep?  " 
she  exclaimed. 

"  I  shall  keep  awake,"  he  answered,  "  until  I  have 
shot  the  sun,  and  then  perhaps  I  may  sleep  for  an 
hour,  weather  permitting." 

As  he  spoke  these  words  he  was  looking  at  the 
sea  right  abeam,  and  held  up  his  hand  in  a  gesture 
of  wonder,  which  arrested  something  that  Julia  was 
about  to  say. 

"  Good  God !  "  cried  Hardy.  "  What's  going  on 
there?" 

It  was  about  a  mile  and  a  half  off,  and  just  in  that 
place  the  sea  was  working  in  a  sort  of  convulsion, 
coil  upon  coil  of  dark  blue  brine  wound  round  and 
round  like  mighty  sea  snakes,  whose  sport  was  as 
deadly  as  the  pursuit  of  the  harpooned  dolphin. 
These  amazing  throes  of  brine  upon  which  the  sun 
was  sweetly  shining,  and  from  which  and  to  which 
the  summer  breast  of  ocean  breathed  in  the  rejoicing 
of  the  early  morning,  in  a  minute  or  two  grew 
savage  with  snaps  and  leaps  of  foam,  with  prong- 
like  upheavals  of  water,  with  crested  shootings,  and 
the  area  whitened  to  the  hue  of  a  star,  and  the  vol- 
canic fury  began.  The  ship  trembled.  You  heard 
no  thunder  of  explosion ;  the  roar  of  the  fire  under 
the  ooze  was  dumb  when  it  penetrated  the  spacious 
hall  of  the  sea;  but  the  raging  torment  was  visible 
in  a  sudden  mighty  upheaval  of  foaming  water, 
smokeless  but  glorious  with  its  cloud  of  spray. 

A  miracle !  From  up  from  deepest  soundings  had 
been  forked  the  figure  of  a  drowned  fabric,  and  as  a 
ball  plays  poised  on  the  feathering  of  a  fountain  so 


^  The  Boat -Full          <*»         303 

floated  the  form  of  a  small  vessel  with  two  lower 
masts  standing,  crowning  the  summit  of  that  fire- 
expelled,  pyramidal,  and  towering  volume  of  foam. 
Such  sights  have  been  witnessed  at  sea,  for  the 
ocean  is  the  arena  of  the  sublime  wonder,  the  heart- 
thrilling  miracle ;  it  is  the  mirror  of  God,  and  unlike 
the  land  its  breast  reflects  his  lights.  The  lovers 
gazed,  the  dog  gazed;  the  ship  seemed  to  dwell 
under  her  curves  of  canvas  as  though  she  paused 
to  look. 

"  How  marvellous !  "   cried  Julia. 

Hardy  rushed  for  the  glass.  He  caught  the 
poised  object  before  it  vanished.  It  was  a  little  ship 
of  old  shape,  high  in  stern,  sloping  thence  to  curved 
head-boards,  two  masts  like  stone  columns,  richly 
encrusted  with  marine  growth,  and  lustrous  as  the 
inner  shell  of  the  oyster;  the  hull  was  of  a  blackish 
green  and  looked  black  in  the  glass  in  contrast  with 
the  white  fury  upon  whose  apex  it  rolled  and  swayed 
and  tumbled.  Then  it  was  gone!  It  vanished  in 
a  cannon  volley  of  water.  The  sea  thereabouts  ran 
boiling,  but  in  a  few  minutes  the  curl  of  the  breeze- 
blown  surge  had  triumphed  over  the  milky  softness, 
and  had  the  spectacle  been  the  launch  of  a  dead  man 
in  a  sailor's  shroud  you  could  not  have  seen  less 
of  it. 

"Was  ever  such  a  sight  beheld  before?"  said 
Julia,  with  tremulous  breath  and  enlarged  nostrils. 
'  Those  who  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,' ' 
answered  Hardy.  "  Has  not  that  observation  been 
made  once  or  twice  before?  I  believe  I  have  been 
forced  to  read  it  a  thousand  times,  for  every  news- 
paper and  every  book  that  relates  to  the  sea  quotes 
this  Scriptural  sentence,  and  I  am  weary  of  it." 


304  •&•  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

"  I  have  heard  of  islands  being  thrown  up,"  said 
Julia. 

"  A  great  deal  is  thrown  up  at  sea,"  replied  Hardy. 
"  Steady  the  wheel,  my  heart,  whilst  I  ogle  the  sun." 

It  will  be  admitted  that  this  brace  of  sweethearts 
had  not  been  very  fortunate.  To  be  burnt  out,  open- 
boated,  drugged,  kidnapped,  shipwrecked  on  a  dere- 
lict with  a  madman,  are  experiences  of  a  rather 
emphatic  sort.  Hardy's  share  had  been  the  share 
of  a  man,  and  bar  the  drug  he  could  have  gone 
through  twenty  fold  worse  and  emerged  a  sunburnt, 
smiling  sailor. 

Fate  for  a  little  while  was  now  to  mask  its  grim 
features  with  a  pleasant  leer,  and  for  the  next  two 
days  of  the  ship's  adventure  the  weather  was  calm, 
the  sea  smooth  enough  for  a  little  yacht,  the  heavens 
bright  with  a  little  shading  here  and  there  of  cloud, 
and  all  went  well  with  the  crew.  On  the  morning  of 
the  third  day  Hardy  came  out  of  his  coop  like  a  snail 
from  its  shell,  only  a  little  faster.  Julia  was  at  the 
wheel,  and  the  dog  on  the  forecastle  keeping  a  look- 
out. 

"  We  are  in  luck,"  said  Hardy,  gazing  around 
him.  "  Fancy  only  requiring  to  trim  sail  five  times 
in  two  days." 

"  How  far  off  is  the  abandoned  brig,  do  you 
think?"  asked  the  girl. 

"  All  five  hundred  miles  of  salt  water,  Julia,  and 
a  salt  mile  is  longer  than  a  highway  mile." 

They  were  used  to  the  ship  and  the  ways  and 
methods  they  had  adopted.  Thanks  to  the  blessed 
weather,  they  had  by  alternation  secured  the  rest  that 
nature  demanded.  There  was  plenty  to  eat  and 
they  ate  heartily.  The  dog  was  as  useful  as  a  mid- 


«f>  The  Boat -Full          «$»         305 

shipman;  he  understood  the  meaning  of  the  word 
slack,  and  held  on  to  it  when  required  as  though  his 
teeth  were  in  the  sleeve  of  a  drowning  man.  There 
was  coal  in  the  fore-peak,  and  Hardy  had  made  the 
necessary  descent,  and  the  stock  in  the  galley  was 
always  plentiful. 

This  morning  they  went  about  their  work  as 
usual.  Hardy  steered.  Julia  lighted  the  galley  fire, 
and  the  dog  came  aft  to  sit  beside  the  wheel  and 
wait  for  breakfast.  How  did  Hardy  look?  How 
did  Julia  look?  Very  well  indeed,  I  can  assure  you. 
When  on  board  the  abandoned  brig  the  sailor's  beard 
grew,  and  he  had  returned  somewhat  bristling  to 
the  York.  But  in  this  ship  were  his  razor,  lathering 
brush,  and  a  square  of  glass  to  make  faces  in.  He 
was  therefore  now  a  clean-shaven  man,  and  I  don't 
believe  there  is  any  girl  living  who  would  not  have 
fallen  in  love  with  him.  He  had  choice  of  clothes, 
too,  which  put  him  to  windward  of  his  sweetheart. 
But  the  eye  of  love  should  never  be  affected  by  ap- 
parel, and  when  Julia  clothed  herself  for  warmth 
and  the  night  in  the  madman's  cloak  she  was  still 
an  incomparable  figure  and  of  romantic  face.  Clothes 
have  very  little  to  do  with  health;  you  may  some- 
times peep  at  the  goddess  through  a  rent  in  the  coat, 
and  I  have  met  her  in  country  lanes  and  crossing 
meadows  in  the  picturesque  garb  of  the  scarecrow 
with  such  cheeks  of  scarlet,  such  eyes  of  light,  such 
teeth  of  ivory  as  might  prove  the  envy  and  the 
despair  of  her  ladyship  travelling,  like  the  suds  of 
a  washerwoman's  tub,  in  carriage  and  pair  to  a 
princely  festival. 

In  fact,  Julia  was  sparkling  to  the  caressing  hand 
of  this  new  life.  The  health  of  the  sea  was  hers, 


306  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

the  love  of  the  sailor  was  hers,  content  and  hope  were 
hers.  Do  not  these  things  wait  upon  appetite  and 
help  digestion?  Do  not  they  irradiate  slumber  with 
entrancing  visions?  If  the  girl  soiled  her  hands  by 
lighting  the  galley  fire,  she  knew  where  to  find  the 
head  pump  and  the  galley  clout  or  a  towel  from  aft 
to  dry  her  fingers. 

Whilst  they  were  eating  their  breakfast  this  morn- 
ing the  dog  sprang  on  the  grating  abaft  the  wheel 
and  barked  its  lookout  to  the  sea  to  windward,  about 
two  points  before  the  beam. 

"  Hold  this  wheel,  Julia !  "  exclaimed  Hardy. 

He  sprang  for  the  telescope  and  levelled  it,  and 
the  light  sweep  of  the  ship's  summer  lurch  darted 
a  boat  with  a  lugsail  into  the  lens.  He  viewed  her 
intently  in  silence,  which  Julia  did  not  dare  to  break 
into  by  heedless,  girlish  cries  of  "  What  is  it?  "  like 
the  distracting  marginal  notes  of  the  lady's  pencil 
in  the  tearful,  the  hysteric,  and  the  religious  novel. 
How  far  distant  that  boat  was  off  I  do  not  know, 
but  she  lay  very  clean  and  clear  in  the  powerful 
tubes  which  Hardy  was  bringing  to  bear  upon  her. 
Her  sail  was  like  a  square  of  satin;  the  fabric  was 
painted  black;  as  she  rose  to  the  fold  you  saw  the 
delicate  gush  of  foam  at  the  bow.  Hardy  counted 
eight  men  in  her,  and  one  figure  that  was  in  the 
bows  continuously  waved  some  streaming  thing 
white  in  his  hands. 

"  My  God !  "  cried  Hardy,  letting  fall  the  glass  to 
his  side.  "  What  a  misfortune !  " 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Julia. 

"  A  boat-full  of  shipwrecked  men,"  he  replied, 
and  his  face  grew  grim  as  he  said  it.  "  They  may 


«?*  The  Boat -Full          -^         307 

be  dying  of  thirst  and  famine,  and  they  must  not 
come  aboard." 

"  Oh,  George !  "  exclaimed  Julia,  grasping  the 
thing  in  an  instant. 

"  If  they  came  aboard,"  he  continued,  speaking 
swiftly  and  even  fiercely,  "  they  may  seize  the  ship; 
in  any  case  their  salvage  claim  would  wreck  our 
hopes.  Put  the  helm  up.  By  God,  they  shall  not 
board  us !  " 

He  sprang  to  the  wheel,  and  the  ship  sloped  away 
to  leeward  from  her  course,  and  the  bearings  of  the 
boat  were  then  abaft  the  beam.  Julia  picked  up  the 
glass,  and  with  an  easy  hand  directed  it. 

"  She  is  sailing  as  fast  as  we,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  No !  "  answered  Hardy,  in  a  rage. 

"  Must  they  be  left  to  perish?  "  she  cried. 

It  was  an  awful  problem  for  fate  to  submit  to  a 
sailor's  mind.  The  very  thought  of  thirst,  of  fam- 
ine, of  suffering  incarnate  in  the  miserable  figures 
of  men  in  an  open  boat  at  sea  makes  faint  the  heart 
of  the  seaman,  and  sooner  would  he  expire  than  not 
fly  to  help.  But  how  stood  this  ghastly  conundrum 
with  Hardy?  First,  who  were  the  men?  They 
might  be  foreigners  —  Greeks,  Italians,  Portuguese, 
Spaniards.  They  had  knives  on  their  hips,  and  their 
hearts  would  redden  with  the  spirit  of  murder  when, 
being  on  board,  they  understood  that  the  flag  was 
the  Red  Flag  of  England,  and  that  nothing  stood 
between  them  and  the  ship  and  a  fair-haired  English 
girl,  of  incomparable  figure,  but  one  man,  whose 
heart  beat  within  the  reach  of  their  shortest  blade! 
No!  They  must  be  helped  but  not  received.  And 
how  was  it  to  be  done?  And  meanwhile  grew  this 
fear  —  if  the  wind  slackened,  if  a  calm  fell,  they 


308  <**  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <*» 

would  gain  the  ship  with  their  oars.  Hardy  was 
without  a  revolver.  Captain  Layard  had  taken 
away  his ;  how  could  he  resist  —  how  could  one 
man  resist  the  desperate  clamber  of  eight  men  in- 
furiate with  thirst,  famine,  and  deadlier  passions 
yet  if  they  were  foreigners? 

He  pondered  deeply,  grasping  the  wheel ;  the  dog 
upon  the  grating  watched  the  boat,  a  lustrous  spot  to 
the  naked  eye,  and  Julia  gazed  in  silence  at  her 
sweetheart. 

"  Come  and  hold  the  wheel,"  said  he. 

Still  in  silence  witnessing  distress  but  resolution 
in  his  face,  she  seized  the  spokes,  and  he  went  to 
work  to  help  that  open  boat.  There  were,  as  you 
know,  two  boats  in  the  davits,  and  a  gig,  called  the 
captain's  gig,  hung  by  davits  over  the  stern.  Rush- 
ing to  the  foremost  boat,  Hardy  seized  the  empty 
breaker  out  of  its  bows  and  ran  with  it  to  the  scuttle- 
butt, and,  swiftly  as  he  could,  filled  it.  He  then 
replaced  the  breaker  in  the  boat's  bows.  He  next 
sped  down  the  companion-ladder,  filled  a  tin  basket 
with  bottles  of  beer  and  two  bottles  of  rum,  re- 
turned on  deck  with  this  basket,  and  placed  it  in  the 
boat.  He  then  fetched  some  tinned  food,  a  quantity 
of  ship's  biscuit  and  an  uncooked  ham,  which  would 
be  good  eating  to  starving  men.  They  were  eight, 
and  he  made  calculations  for  a  week's  supply  with 
care.  He  threw  a  pannikin  into  the  boat.  He 
breathed  hard  and  fast,  and  his  face  was  coloured 
with  blood,  and  the  sweat  drained  from  his  hair  to 
his  eyebrows ;  for  he  was  mad  to  succour  and  mad  to 
escape,  and  all  the  while  he  worked  he  never  spoke 
a  word  to  the  girl. 

It  would  have  been  an  impossible  task  but  for  the 


«*  The  Boat -Full         <&        309 

steady  flow  of  the  sea,  and  the  gentle  yielding  of 
the  ship  to  the  caressing  sway  of  the  fold.  But  it 
fell  out  as  it  was,  and  Hardy  did  it  whilst  Julia 
steered,  and  the  ship  blew  softly  onwards,  whilst  the 
white  spot  abaft  the  beam,  watched  by  the  dog, 
gleamed  like  a  meteor  whose  foam  would  be  a  little 
disc  when  near.  He  freed  the  boat  of  its  gripes 
by  his  knife,  a  sharp  blade,  then,  just  as  Layard  had 
before  him,  he  lowered  the  boat  by  easing  away 
first  the  bow,  then  the  after  falls,  until  she  was 
water-borne,  when,  with  a  sailor's  activity,  he 
passed  his  knife  through  the  tackles,  and  the  ropes 
fell  into  the  boat.  She  was  liberated!  and  whilst 
he  filled  his  lungs,  distressed  in  breath,  so  ardent 
and  energetic  had  been  his  toil,  the  boat  was  astern, 
then  in  the  ship's  wake,  and  Julia  could  see  her  by 
looking  over  the  taffrail. 

"  They'll  come  up  with  it,"  said  Hardy,  going  to 
the  girl's  side,  "  and  their  overhauling  her  will  widen 
our  distance." 

"  It  was  the  only  way  to  feed  them,"  Julia  an- 
swered. 

"One  way.  Have  they  fresh  water  enough? 
Eight  men !  We  may  want  that  other  breaker,"  said 
he  with  a  side  nod  at  the  remaining  quarter-boat. 
'  They'll  be  fallen  in  with  —  perhaps  before  sun- 
down." 

He  picked  up  the  glass  and  again  scrutinised  the 
boat.  She  leapt  into  the  lens  within  a  quarter  of  a 
mile.  The  man  in  the  bows  stood  upright,  but  he 
was  no  longer  flourishing  his  wift.  They  were 
heading  almost  into  the  ship's  wake,  and  were  cer- 
tain to  see  the  quarter-boat  and  understand  what  she 
meant.  Along  the  rail  the  heads  of  the  men  were 


310  <4>  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  +• 

fixed  like  cannon-balls.  Supposing  they  were  Eng- 
lishmen. What  would  they  think?  Hardy  ground 
his  teeth  and  twice  beat  the  air  with  a  clenched 
fist.  But  supposing  they  were  Dagos.  Supposing 
—  he  could  not  have  acted  otherwise.  Life,  love, 
and  hope  were  the  inspiration  of  his  resolution, 
and  I  say  he  could  not  have  acted  otherwise. 

It  was  then,  happily  for  him  and  his  sweetheart, 
that  the  sea  to  windward  darkened  a  little  to  a 
pleasant  freshening  of  breeze.  The  breasts  aloft 
swelled  to  the  larger  breath,  but  so  scantily  clothed 
was  the  York,  it  was  absolutely  certain  that  if  the 
breeze  scanted  the  boat  would  overhaul  the  ship,  and 
once  those  eight  men  got  alongside  the  rest  might 
prove  —  Good  night ! 

Again  Hardy  looked  at  the  boat  through  the  tel- 
escope, and  he  cried  out  with  the  tubes  at  his  eye: 

"  It's  all  right,  Julia;  they're  heading  dead  for  the 
quarter-boat.  Whether  they  understand  or  not,  it's 
all  right." 

He  grasped  the  wheel  and  brought  the  ship  to  her 
course  and  this  greased  her  heels  somewhat,  for  the 
yards  were  trimmed  for  the  course  he  was  steering 
and  the  sails  drew  bravely.  Julia  kept  the  glass  to 
her  eye. 

"  They  have  lowered  their  sail,"  she  cried.  "  They 
are  very  near  the  boat." 

It  was  all  blank  to  the  naked  eye,  and  Hardy 
searched  in  vain  for  that  star  whose  rise  might 
have  proved  the  malignant  star  of  death  and  dis- 
honour to  them  both.  Again  the  lovers  shifted 
places.  Julia  held  the  wheel  whilst  Hardy  directed 
the  glass  at  the  boat.  He  watched  the  minute  ma- 
noeuvres. It  was  a  little  field  of  Lilliputians,  but 


«$»  The  Boat -Full          «$»         311 

every  figure  was  as  clean  cut  in  the  lens  as  the  pyg- 
mies to  the  downward  gazing  eyes  of  Gulliver.  The 
two  boats  came  and  went  behind  and  upon  the  sum- 
mer swell  of  the  sea,  but  not  so  as  to  baffle  the  marine 
vision.  The  naked  mast  rolled  and  the  men  showed 
plain.  Thirst  and  famine  were  in  their  motions,  and 
Hardy  sighed  and  gasped  as  he  watched.  He  saw 
the  infuriate  gesture  that  brought  the  bottle  to  the 
mouth,  the  impassioned  posture  as  the  cracked  lips 
drained  the  pannikin.  He  witnessed  avidity,  col- 
oured into  horror  by  human  need  in  the  passage 
of  the  clenched  biscuit  or  piece  of  meat  to  the  mouth. 
It  nearly  broke  his  heart  to  leave  them.  If  ever  a 
man  was  inspired  by  the  compassion,  the  instincts, 
and  the  loyalty  of  a  sailor,  it  was  Hardy.  Yet  he 
thanked  God  with  all  his  heart  that  they  had  plenty, 
that  the  weather  promised  fair,  that  they  had  another 
and  a  good  boat,  and  that  in  this  highway  of  the 
sailing  ship  human  help  was  certain  if  calamitous 
destiny  were  not  first.  Hardy's  eyes  were  moist  as 
the  telescope  slowly  sank  from  his  arm ;  for  let  them 
be  Dagos,  let  them  be  Dutchmen,  call  those  men  by 
any  name  you  will,  they  were  shipwrecked  sailors 
upon  a  lonely  sea,  and  their  appeal  to  the  Red  Flag 
of  England  would  have  been  irresistible  but  for  the 
helpless  condition  of  the  York.  Julia  saw  emotion 
in  her  lover's  face,  and  caressed  him  with  her  eyes 
as  though  she  would  soothe  him  with  her  love,  and 
never  did  she  honour  him  more,  nor  felt  a  fuller 
flow  of  dumb  and  inward  gratitude  to  the  Father 
of  all  for  this  lifelong  gift  of  sympathy,  help,  and 
devotion. 

"  We  shall  run  them  out  of  reach  of  the  glass," 
said  Hardy. 


312  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

"  I  can  scarcely  see  them  as  it  is,"  she  answered. 

"  What  is  their  story  ?  "  he  went  on.  "  It  will  be 
told  because  they  will  be  saved.  Yonder  is  one  of 
the  teachings  of  the  sea.  You  pass  a  piece  of  wreck ; 
it  is  encrusted  with  the  jewelry  of  the  ocean;  it  is 
girdled  by  a  silver  belt  of  fish.  To  one  man  it  is  a 
piece  of  wreckage ;  to  another  man  it  is  a  memorial, 
lofty,  sublime,  and  awful  as  a  cathedral,  of  fire,  of 
explosion,  of  the  beam-ended  fabric  with  lashed  fig- 
ures in  the  shrouds,  sunk  to  the  foam,  and  blacken- 
ing it  with  emergence  like  the  iron  shape  dangling 
at  the  finger  of  a  gibbet  upon  a  wintry  moor  that 
foams  with  snow." 

"  Do  all  sailors  talk  in  this  language?  "  said  Julia. 

"  Any  man  who  can  make  himself  understood 
speaks  well.  I  do  not  love  irony." 

Julia  smiled  archly. 

"  You  do  not  love  irony,"  she  said.  "  Did  you 
ever  love  another  before  you  loved  me?  " 

"  A  man  who  uses  the  sea  is  shy  amongst  women," 
he  answered.  "  We  are  accustomed  when  we  see  a 
green  eye  in  thick  weather  winking  off  our  port  bow 
to  sing  these  lines : 

u '  There's  not  so  much  for  you  to  do, 
For  green  to  port  keeps  clear  of  you.' 

I  was  never  yet  in  a  collision  —  I  mean. ashore." 

This  pleased  her,  and  she  said  she  would  go  and 
look  to  the  galley  fire  if  Hardy  would  kindly  hold 
the  wheel. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

HAIL,  COLUMBIA ! 

LUCK  was  still  to  attend  the  ship's  company  of 
the  York  —  luck  in  the  shape  of  weather.  The  wind 
took  two  days  to  change  its  mood,  then  shifted  off 
the  port  bow,  where  Hardy's  metaphoric  red  eye 
was  winking. 

The  man,  the  dog,  the  watch-tackle,  and  the  winch 
were  equal  to  the  sudden  confrontment  of  air,  which 
happened  at  daybreak  when  the  man  and  the  dog 
could  see,  and  when  the  girl  at  the  wheel  could  see. 

Of  course  sail  was  not  trimmed  as  though  the 
York  had  been  a  frigate,  as  though  you  had  fifty 
men  for  a  rope,  when  the  master-mariner  considers 
himself  lucky  if  he  gets  twenty-five  men  for  a  full- 
rigged  ship.  Trimming  sail  took  time;  but  it  was 
done.  And  the  dog  stuck  like  glue  to  the  slack. 
No  need  to  dwell  upon  the  discipline;  it  was  now 
as  before,  and  likely  to  continue  whilst  health  and 
strength  endured.  The  sweethearts  used  the  hen- 
coop alternately,  and  it  yielded  them  all  necessary 
refreshment  of  slumber;  the  dog  kept  a  lookout 
whilst  the  girl  steered,  and  still  the  ship's  course 
was  a  crow's  flight  for  the  Chops,  with  some  hurdles 
of  parallels  before  her  indeed ;  but  her  march  though 
slow  was  conquering,  and  the  lovers'  spirits  were  as 

313 


314  *$*  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

high  as  the  dog-vane  that  shook  its  piece  of  bunting 
at  the  main-royal  masthead. 

When  Hardy  had  trimmed  sail  this  morning  he 
sat  beside  the  girl  to  rest  a  little.  The  wind  was  to 
the  westward  of  north,  the  sky  that  way  was  pale, 
but  the  sun  to  starboard  burnt  bright,  and  lofty 
ridges  of  cloud,  very  delicate,  like  the  memory  of 
the  ripple  on  the  sands  of  the  coast,  moved  stealthily 
northwest,  which  signified  sundry  currents  of  air 
of  no  moment,  if  below  all  gushes  the  favouring 
breeze. 

"  We'll  breakfast  in  a  few  minutes,"  said  Hardy. 
"  I  feel  as  if  I  have  been  swimming  ten  miles." 

"  We  are  in  luck,  George,"  answered  Julia. 

"  What  is  the  luck  of  the  sailor?  "  said  he.  "  I 
have  heard  of  one  lucky  sailor.  He  went  to  a  sale 
and  bought  a  feather-bed.  Jack  in  a  feather-bed! 
He  turned  in  and  his  starboard  bunion  was  worried 
by  something  hard.  He  ripped  the  cover  and  found 
a  bag  containing  one  hundred  and  forty-two  Queen 
Anne  guineas.  He  started  a  public-house  and  died 
worth  eight  thousand  pounds." 

"  He  was  a  sailor  and  deserved  it,"  said  Julia. 
"Why  do  sailors  hate  soldiers?" 

"  The  historian  must  answer  that.  There  is  a 
reason,  and  it  is  true.  You  see,  my  dear,  a  sailor 
will  spend  his  last  half-crown  upon  his  girl,  and  a 
soldier  will  borrow  the  last  half-crown  from  his 
girl." 

"Do  soldiers  hate  sailors?  "  asked  Julia,  laughing. 

"  They  only  meet  at  sea,"  answered  Hardy,  "  and 
the  motion  of  a  ship  will  neutralise  prejudice  in  the 
man  who  can't  stand  it." 

In  due  course  the  galley  fire  was  lighted,  coffee 


«$»  Hail,  Columbia!          «$>         315 

was  boiled,  and  the  ship's  company  broke  their  fast. 
The  breeze  hung  steady,  the  glass  spoke  hopefully, 
and  Hardy  found,  after  taking  sights,  that  home  was 
nearer  by  some  hundred  miles  than  it  had  been  yes- 
terday. It  was  nine  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  this 
day.  The  lights  of  heaven  winked  sparely  through 
an  atmosphere  that  nevertheless  was  unthickened  by 
mist.  The  fresh  wind  of  the  noon  had  slackened 
much,  and  the  sound  of  the  fall  of  the  sea  off  the 
bow  was  sloppy,  as  though  the  cook  was  emptying 
buckets  of  stuff  over  the  side,  and  indeed  the  noise 
was  in  keeping  with  the  sort  of  smoking,  greasy  face 
of  the  sea,  which  rolled  in  knolls  of  soft,  black  oil 
speedily  out  of  sight,  so  general  and  closing  was  the 
dusk. 

Julia  stood  at  the  wheel,  and  the  dog  as  usual  was 
on  the  forecastle  head  keeping  a  lookout.  The  girl 
could  distinctly  hear  her  lover  snoring  in  his  hen- 
coop. The  magic  of  the  ear  of  love  runs  melody 
into  the  snore  of  the  sweetheart ;  to  the  burdened 
marital  organ  the  snore  is  not  the  voice  of  the 
heavenly  chorister.  Shakespeare  wonders  whether 
we  dream  in  our  sleep  of  death;  Julia  might  have 
wondered  if  we  snored.  The  binnacle  lamp  burnt 
brightly,  so  did  the  side-lights.  The  girl  had  been 
sleeping  whilst  Hardy  steered,  and  now  stood  fresh 
and  firm  at  the  wheel,  a  very  shadow  of  British  girl, 
snug  in  the  madman's  cloak ;  but  the  faint  stars  knew 
that  her  figure  was  beautiful. 

Suddenly  the  dog  began  to  bark;  its  deep  note 
rolled  aft  in  low  thunder.  Julia,  with  her  heart 
slightly  fluttering,  strained  her  eyes  to  port  and  then 
to  starboard,  believing  that  the  dog  was  reporting 
the  side-light  or  white  masthead  light  of  a  ship  or 


316  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

steamer.  But  the  dog  continued  to  bark,  and  in  the 
midst  of  it,  before  it  awoke  Hardy,  before  she  could 
call  to  Hardy,  a  smell,  an  overpowering  stench, 
fumes  as  overwhelming  as  any  that  could  rise  from 
the  shallow  tombs  of  thousands  of  plague-stricken 
wretches  —  this  subduing  and  distracting  presence 
was  in  the  air. 

"  George!  George!  "  shrieked  the  girl.  But  she 
could  not  again  speak,  for  the  filth  of  the  breeze 
compelled  her  right  hand  to  her  mouth  and  nostrils, 
and  the  brave  heart  steadied  the  spoke  with  her  left 
hand  only. 

In  a  minute  Hardy  was  beside  her.  "  Phew !  " 
said  he,  and  spat.  This  was  his  comment. 

The  dog  continued  to  bark.  Its  note  had  that 
quality  of  alarm  which  makes  the  sailors  spring  as 
for  life  or  death  to  the  affrighting  shout  of  a  single 
man  upon  the  forecastle. 

"  What  in  hell  —  "  But  it  might  have  been  the 
devil  himself  who  stopped  Hardy's  mouth  then,  for 
even  as  he  spoke  the  ship  struck  something  soft,  and 
slided  away  from  it  points  off  her  course,  so  blubbery 
was  the  thing,  proper  for  the  "  ways  "  of  a  launch. 

"  It's  up  the  spout  this  time,"  said  Hardy.  "Jump 
to  the  side,  Julia ;  report  what  you  see.  There  you 
go,  to  starboard  —  to  windward,  to  windward !  " 

He  held  the  wheel,  and  the  girl  shrieked,  "  I  can't 
see  for  the  smell." 

"  Hold  your  nose  and  skin  your  eyes,  and  tell  me 
what  you  see." 

"  A  great  deal  of  fire,  and  a  black  mass  in  the 
midst  of  it  lined  with  foam,  and  oh,  what  a  horrible 
smell!" 

She  came  staggering  to  her  lover's  side  in  revolt 
of  sickened  senses. 


«$»  Hail,  Columbia!         «$»         317 

"  A  dead  whale,"  said  Hardy,  whose  nose  was  not 
entirely  fastidious. 

"  Hold  the  wheel,  dear,"  and  he  sprang  to  the 
quarter  and  saw  the  thing;  that  is,  he  saw  the 
shadow,  it  loomed  so  that  it  might  have  been  a 
little  island.  The  fire  of  the  sea  played  about  it 
as  the  reflected  lightning  of  the  hidden  storm  winks 
and  flashes  in  the  soft  indigo  of  the  ocean  recess. 
The  sea  caressed  this  floating  dunghill  with  those 
same  white,  cruel  fingers  with  which  it  casts  the 
mutilated  corpse  ashore. 

"  The  air  sweetens,"  said  Hardy,  returning  to  the 
wheel.  "  Go  below  for  a  nip  of  brandy,  and  bring 
me  one,  dear." 

And  he  brought  the  ship  to  her  course.  He  did 
not  greatly  like  the  look  of  the  weather.  For  per- 
haps an  hour  and  a  half  he  had  been  sleeping;  this 
was  a  good  "  turn  in  "  for  a  sailor-man  who  signs 
articles  to  work  for  the  shipowner  for  twenty-four 
hours  in  the  day,  a  brutal  and  inhuman  tax  upon 
suffering  men,  in  no  other  walk  of  life  to  be  heard 
of.  Anyhow  he  could  not  leave  the  ship  in  Julia's 
charge  with  those  dimly  winking  stars  growing 
sparer  yet,  with  increasing  moisture  on  the  wing  of 
the  wind  like  the  early  breath  of  a  wet  squall. 

"  I  don't  expect  the  wind  to  shift,"  said  he,  "  but 
it's  bound  to  come  on  harder  presently.  Get  you  into 
that  hen-coop  and  rest  your  limbs  if  not  your  brain. 
I  expect  I  shall  be  wanting  you  before  midnight." 

She  obeyed  him  as  though  she  had  been  a  sailor  or 
a  dog,  and  dissolved  into  the  black  void  of  the  hen- 
coop. You  could  not  see  the  faintest  glimmer  of  her 
face,  nor  the  dimmest  outline  of  her  shape.  The 
Newfoundland  had  come  aft  and  berthed  itself.  The 


318  «9»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

animal  knew  that  when  Hardy  was  at  the  wheel  it 
was  its  watch  below. 

Now  the  ship  was  under  such  small  canvas  that 
her  cloths  were  not  more  than  she  could  stand  up 
with  if  .it  blew  half  a  gale  from  abeam  or  abaft  the 
beam.  Those  were  the  days  of  single  topsails,  and 
in  all  three  topsails  a  single  reef  had  been  tied  by 
the  survivors  of  the  crew  in  the  heavy  night  before 
they  left  for  the  Frenchman.  It  would  then  come 
perhaps  to  a  drag  upon  a  staysail  down-haul  and  to 
letting  go  the  outer  jib-halliards,  leaving  the  un- 
furled sail  to  convulse  itself  into  bulbs  and  bellies  of 
canvas  upon  the  jibboom.  Certainly  Hardy  single- 
handed  could  not  lay  out  upon  the  jibboom  and  furl 
a  big  jib :  he  did  not  mean  to  try. 

As  he  expected,  the  wind  freshened,  but  without 
the  shift  of  a  quarter  of  a  point.  The  ship  raced 
nobly  through  the  gloom :  she  blew  white  steam 
from  the  nostrils  of  her  bows;  the  white  water  to 
leeward  widened  with  her  pace  and  flashed  with  the 
emerald  and  diamond  of  the  sea  glow  into  the  long, 
the  streaming,  the  joyous  homeward-bound  wake. 
There  was  no  more  dead  leviathan  in  the  air ;  it  was 
full  of  the  salt  sweetness  of  Swinburne's  rushing  sea 
verse.  But  the  stars  were  gone ;  there  was  no  light 
upon  the  sea  but  the  light  of  its  foam.  The  ship  was 
plunging,  the  seas  raced  her  in  black  curls,  and  burst 
with  a  pallor  of  dawn  from  her  side,  and  onward  she 
swept,  bowing  and  rolling  to  the  music  of  the  bag- 
pipes in  her  rigging,  controlled  by  a  single  hand  —  a 
fearless  and  a  valiant  hand  —  the  hand  of  a  British 
sailor. 

However,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  "  crack  on  "  in 
a  sort  of  way,  and  the  meaning  of  "  cracking  on  "  at 


«$»  Hail,  Columbia!         «f»         319 

sea  is  the  carrying  in  bad  weather  of  more  canvas 
than  the  judicious  would  approve.  I  have  known  an 
old  skipper  to  furl  his  fore  and  mizzen-royal  and 
stow  his  flying  jib  every  second  dog-watch  in  dead 
calm  or  catspaw.  The  ladies  reckoned  him  a  safe 
man,  and  he  made  the  voyage  from  the  Thames  to 
Sydney  Bay  in  four  months.  Hardy  had  the  in- 
stincts of  a  mate,  and  was  always  for  carrying  on; 
but  he  had  not  much  confidence  in  staysail  and  jib- 
sheets,  and  at  half-past  eleven,  seven  bells  of  the  first 
watch,  somewhat  benumbed  with  his  grip  of  the 
spokes,  he  resolved  to  shorten  canvas,  and  shouted 
to  his  girl.  She  came  out  of  the  coop  like  a  figure 
from  a  clock. 

"  Is  it  a  storm?  "  said  she  in  his  ear. 

"  Let's  thank  God,"  he  answered,  "  like  the  sailor 
in  the  song,  that  there  are  no  chimney-pots  in  the 
air.  I  wonder  if  I  can  trust  you  with  this  wheel? 
It  doesn't  kick  very  much,  and  I  sha'n't  be  long." 

"  You  don't  want  to  turn  in,  then?  " 

"  Love  ye,  no,"  he  answered.  "  Get  a  good  hold 
of  these  spokes,  and  I'll  stand  by." 

He  watched  her,  conceiving  that  if  the  ship  was 
off  her  course  now  and  again  it  would  not  signify  a 
brass  farthing.  The  wheel-chains  are  a  good  pur- 
chase upon  the  tiller,  and  Julia's  arms  were  strong 
and  determined  with  the  labour  she  had  been  put  to, 
whether  ashore  or  at  sea.  Young  women  cannot  pull 
ropes  on  board  ship,  or  lift  old  ladies  out  of  bed  on 
dry  land,  without  adding  strength  to  the  muscles  of 
their  arms  and  determination  to  the  clutch  of  their 
fingers. 

Hardy  stood  close  beside  Julia  ready  for  that  kick 
of  the  helm  which,  whilst  he  had  stood  at  the  wheel, 


320  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$> 

had  on  three  or  four  occasions  started  him  out  of  a 
mood  of  musing.  Twice  came  the  kick  —  the  blow 
of  the  surge  against  the  rudder,  but  the  girl  held  on 
and  the  ship  swept  on,  and  with  every  freshening  of 
the  black  roar  aloft  the  words  of  the  Yankee  poet 
came  into  Hardy's  head : 

"  Then  suddenly  there  burst  a  yell 
That  would  have  shock'd  and  stagger'd  hell." 

"  You'll  do,"  said  Hardy. 

He  called  the  dog  and  they  went  forward.  There 
is  no  good  in  talking  of  jiggers,  down-hauls,  sheets, 
halliards,  winches,  and  such  things  to  landsmen. 
Enough,  then,  if  it  be  said  that  by  first  letting  go 
and  then  by  hauling  down,  Hardy,  helped  by  the 
dog  and  the  jigger  —  which  is  another  word  for  the 
watch-tackle  —  succeeded  in  easing  the  ship  of  two 
or  three  pinions  of  staysails  and  jib.  The  jigger 
manned  the  down-haul  stoutly,  and  the  dog  stuck 
like  glue  to  all  slack  he  was  asked  to  concern  him- 
self with.  The  sails  were  left  to  flap  and  slat  and 
thunder.  What  could  Hardy  do?  If  the  canvas 
went  to  pieces  they  must  carry  the  ship  home  with- 
out it;  if  it  held,  there  were  the  dog,  the  jigger,  and 
the  man  to  rehoist  it.  A  mate's  ear  does  not  love  the 
noise  of  slatting  canvas,  and  Hardy  as  he  stood  in 
the  bows  guessed  with  something  of  helpless  disgust 
that  the  jib-boom  was  buckling  a  bit.  The  foretop- 
mast  staysail  and  the  inner  jib  were  roaring  like  a 
thunder-storm,  and  a  living  gale  swept  out  of  the 
iron  curve  of  the  bolt-rope  of  the  fore-course. 

It  was  white  water  often  to  the  figure-head,  the 
midnight  magnificence  and  wrath  of  foam,  the 


«f»  Hail,  Columbia!         «$»         321 

stormy  bellowing  of  the  recoiling  and  shattered  sea. 
Heavenly  Father !  to  think  of  this  rushing,  shadowy 
structure,  this  clipper  fabric,  whose  stern  was  out  of 
sight  in  darkness  from  the  bows,  controlled  by  a 
girl! 

Hardy  ran  aft  to  take  the  wheel,  and  the  dutiful 
dog  trotted  beside  him.  How  did  that  night  pass? 
In  simple  alternations  of  coop  and  wheel. 

It  was  not  to  be  a  long  night;  the  business  of  the 
half-gale  did  not  begin  until  eight  bells  of  the  first 
watch,  and  it  was  nearly  two  bells  before  Hardy  had 
made  an  end  with  his  staysails  and  jib.  It  was  not 
perhaps  in  those  days  so  extremely  necessary  as  it  is 
in  these  to  keep  a  bright  lookout  for  ships'  lights, 
simply  because  the  steam  vessel  was  comparatively 
few,  and  the  sailing  ship  was  not  greatly  accustomed 
to  interpret  her  presence  by  the  red  and  green  wink. 
The  flourish  of  the  lamp  hastily  plucked  out  of  the 
binnacle  was  deemed  as  good  a  flare  as  an  empty 
flaming  tar-barrel,  and,  indeed,  it  sometimes  sufficed. 
Collision  in  the  days  of  timber  was  not  collision  in 
the  days  of  steel.  Colliding  ships  ground  away  each 
other's  channels  amidst  the  benedictions  of  the  fore- 
castle and  the  poop,  and  the  spluttering  expostula- 
tions of  crackling  spars  on  high.  Now  'tis  touch  and 
sink,  so  ingenious  and  preserving  is  the  water-tight 
bulkhead,  so  grand  in  assurance  of  the  salvation 
of  precious  life  is  the  keel-up  boat,  secured  beyond 
all  release  of  knife  or  tool  to  the  skid.  Everything 
is  riveted,  and  everything  goes,  and  it  takes  half  a 
dozen  gunboats  to  sink  a  wooden  wreck  maliciously 
floating  in  the  track  of  the  supreme  expression  of 
the  modern  shipwright's  art. 

The  break  of  day  found  Hardy  at  the  wheel. 


322  «*»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  <& 

But  he  had  slept  since  he  was  last  heard  of,  and 
Julia  had  stood  her  trick,  kick  or  no  kick,  whilst 
Sailor  kept  watch  on  the  forecastle  head.  The  wind 
had  greatly  fallen,  the  sea  had  greatly  fallen,  and  the 
complexion  of  fine  weather  was  in  the  dawn.  With 
the  rising  of  the  sun  the  weather  promised  beauty 
and  splendour :  blue  seas  far  as  the  eye  could  reach 
breaking  in  foam,  masses  of  sailing  cloud  in  the  sky 
like  vast  puffs  of  vapour  from  the  funnel  of  a  loco- 
motive; and  right  astern,  a  film  of  pearl  in  the 
windy  blue,  hung  a  sail. 

It  was  not  seen  for  some  time  by  Hardy,  nor  by 
the  dog  that  slumbered  in  its  kennel ;  but  when  Julia 
came  out  of  her  coop  to  the  summons  of  the  sun,  she 
instantly  saw  the  sail  and  called  and  pointed;  and 
whilst  she  held  the  wheel  the  dog  sprang  on  to  the 
taffrail  and  barked,  and  Hardy  fetched  the  glass. 

A  cloud  of  canvas  coming  up  astern  hand  over 
hand.  Topsails,  topgallantsails,  royals,  and  skysails ; 
the  wind  fresh  off  the  beam;  a  topgallant-stunsail 
yearning  from  its  boom  end :  the  beautiful  vision,  a 
leaning  light  with  the  blue  sea  in  foam  betwixt  it  and 
the  York,  and  beyond,  the  immeasurable  heavens 
sloping  past  the  working  rim  of  the  deep. 

"  A  Yankee,"  said  Hardy,  putting  down  the  glass. 
"  Skysails  —  why  not  moonsails,  and  angels'  foot- 
stools? D'ye  know  that  you  can  sometimes  stop 
a  ship  by  cracking  on  ?  I've  hove  the  log  and  found 
her  doing  ten :  thought  to  get  more  out  of  her ;  set 
royals  and  topmast-stunsails :  hove  the  log  and 
found  her  doing  nine.  Why?  Because  a  ship  isn't 
built  to  sail  on  her  side." 

The  galley  fire  was  lighted;  coffee  was  boiled; 
the  sun  shone  brightly,  and  the  ship  astern  was 


«$»  Hail,  Columbia !         «$»         323 

coming  up  fast.  Whilst  Julia  held  the  wheel,  Hardy 
mastheaded  the  red  flag  of  our  country  at  the  gaff 
end,  and  there  it  streamed,  meteoric,  as  in  the  song. 

"  It  is  like  being  in  the  Docks  to  see  it,"  cried 
Julia. 

"It  is  like  feeling  that  there  are  no  bally  Dutch- 
men in  the  world !  "  answered  Hardy. 

They  breakfasted  in  a  manner  afore-described, 
and  often  watched  the  ship  astern.  She  was  a  black 
spot  under  a  white  cloud. 

"  Undoubtedly  a  Yankee,"  said  Hardy,  with  his 
mouth  full  of  white  biscuit.  "  She'll  wonder  at  us, 
and  what  will  she  do  ?  " 

"  They  must  not  help  us,"  said  Julia. 

"  Fancy  her  sailors  sparkling  with  the  jewels  in 
the  safe,  fancy  her  skipper  and  mates  singing  out 
orders  with  heavy  gold  chains  round  their  necks,  and 
diamond  earrings  in  their  Yankee  lobes!  I  do  love 
the  Yankee  captain;  he  stands  at  the  break  of  the 
poop  and  watches  his  mate  kicking  a  man's  brains 
out  of  his  skull,  and  he  yells  out,  '  Heave  him  over 
the  side  whilst  he's  breathing.'  It  is  all  sweetness 
and  light  aboard  the  Yankeeman.  Some  of  these 
days  the  great  Republic  will  awaken  to  recognition 
of  the  claims  of  her  merchant  sailors.  The  immortal 
Dana  did  his  best,  which  was  noble  and  lasting. 
But  oh,  the  crimes,  the  cruelties,  the  murders  which 
make  the  Yankee  ship  of  trade  a  bitterer  hell  for 
men  than  the  hell  of  the  monk's  invention !  " 

But  a  stern  chase  is  a  long  chase,  albeit  you  are 
under  single-reef  topsails  and  fore-course  only, 
whilst  t'other  heaps  your  wake  with  skysails  and 
stunsails.  It  was  half-past  nine  before  the  ship  astern 
was  on  the  York's  quarter;  a  black  barque  with  an 


324  «£»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

almost  straight  stem,  taking  the  seas  under  her  swell- 
ing heights  with  the  springs  and  leaps  of  a  deer 
chased  by  the  hound. 

Her  colour,  if  it  flew,  was  invisible  as  yet,  but  her 
nationality  was  as  certain  as  a  goatee.  Jonathan  was 
at  the  helm  and  Jonathan  was  at  the  prow,  and 
Hardy  easily  guessed  that  the  condition  of  the  York 
flying  the  flag  of  a  rich  relation  was  puzzling  the 
intelligence  of  the  gentleman  whose  legs  are  repre- 
sented as  clothed  with  the  bunting  of  Stripes  and 
Stars.  Yes,  Jonathan  was  puzzled,  and  like  Paul 
Pry  meant  to  intrude,  whilst  hoping  that  he  didn't. 
On  a  sudden  she  clewed  up  skysails,  royals,  and 
topgallantsails,  boom-ended  her  studdingsails,  and 
came  surging  with  little  more  than  the  speed  of  the 
York  on  to  the  clipper's  quarter  within  easy  hail. 
A  man  stood  on  the  rail  holding  on  by  the  mizzen- 
rigging.  No  flag  flew  at  the  gaff  end,  but  the  word 
Yankee  was  writ  in  letters  as  big  as  the  barque  her- 
self. The  figure  grasped  an  old-fashioned  weapon 
for  the  conveyance  of  sound  —  a  speaking-trumpet ; 
he  put  it  to  his  lips,  and  whilst  a  small  crowd  of  men 
on  the  barque's  forecastle,  attired  in  dungaree  and 
vary-coloured  headgear,  gazed  at  the  York  with  the 
steadfast  stare  of  sheep  at  a  barking  dog  in  a  field, 
the  man  with  the  trumpet  delivered  his  mind  thus : 
"  Ho,  the  ship  ahoy !  What  ship  are  you  ?  " 
Hardy,  with  one  hand  to  his  mouth,  Julia  mean- 
while steering,  roared  back : 

"  The  York,  of  London;  bound  to  London." 
This  was  all  he  said.  He  did  not  inquire  the 
barque's  name;  it  was  no  business  of  his  to  know 
it.  But  she  was  forging  ahead,  and  the  name  under 
the  counter  in  long  white  letters  grew  visible: 
Columbia  —  Boston. 


«£»  Hail,  Columbia!         «£»         325 

"  Where's  your  crew  ?  "  shouted  the  man  with  the 
trumpet. 

"  On  deck,"  was  the  answer. 

A  man  standing  by  the  figure  on  the  rail  took  the 
speaking-trumpet  and  replaced  it  by  a  telescope, 
which  the  figure  levelled  at  Julia. 

"  He's  admiring  you,"  said  Hardy. 

"  I  dare  say  the  crew  on  that  forecastle  are  laugh- 
ing," she  exclaimed. 

"  Sailors  are  too  well  fed  to  laugh  easily,"  replied 
Hardy.  "  Oily  men,  fat  men,  rich  men,  seldom 
laugh." 

All  between  the  two  speeding  vessels  was  the  rush 
of  the  white  surge,  and  the  ships  seemed  to  salute 
each  other  like  acquaintances  as  they  bowed  in  stately 
rolls  and  sang  the  song  of  the  shrouds  one  to  the 
other,  for  it  is  all  singing  at  sea  —  singing  or  sing- 
ing out. 

Suddenly  when  the  barque  had  drawn  on  to  the 
weather-bow  of  the  York  she  was  luffed  up  into 
the  wind,  and  the  weather-half  of  her  loftier  canvas 
was  aback. 

"  They  mean  to  visit  us,"  said  Hardy. 

"  Not  to  stay,  I  hope,"  said  Julia,  anxiously. 

In  a  few  moments  some  figures  broke  from  the 
barque's  forecastle  crowd  and  ran  aft,  and  a  white 
boat  of  a  whaling  pattern,  sharpened  stem  and  stern, 
sank  from  its  davits  with  six  men  in  her,  and  the 
man  who  had  given  the  telescope  to  the  figure  on 
the  rail  steered  the  boat. 

Hardy  put  his  helm  down  and  shook  the  wind 
out  of  his  small  canvas,  and  presently  the  boat  was 
hooked  on  alongside,  and  an  American  sailor  —  a 
chief  mate  —  clambered  over  the  rail  on  to  the  deck 
of  the  York. 


326  -^  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  -^ 

It  is  bad  taste  to  imitate  accents,  or  oddities  of 
phrase,  or  nasal  deliverances.  This  Yankee  mate 
then  shall  speak  as  our  first  cousin  does. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  said  he,  touching  his  cap 
as  he  approached  Hardy  and  Julia,  "  that  you  and 
this  lady  "  —  he  bowed  to  her  —  "  are  your  ship's 
company  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Hardy.  "  We  have  that  dog :  he 
is  worth  ten  foreigners,  and  we  have  a  watch-tackle 
and  a  winch." 

"  And  you  are  carrying  this  ship  to  London 
alone?" 

"  Ay." 

The  Yankee  mate  looked  a  little  stupefied,  glanced 
along  the  deck,  then  up  at  the  Red  Ensign,  then  at 
the  girl  who  stood  beneath  it. 

"  Where  are  you  from  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  See  here,"  said  Hardy;  "  I  intend  to  spin  my 
own  yarn  when  I  get  ashore,  and  I  do  not  mean  that 
it  shall  either  be  diminished  or  exaggerated  by  re- 
port. This  lady  and  I  propose  to  carry  this  ship 
home  alone,  and  that  flag  flies  in  vain  if  we  fail." 

"  Well,  I  am  surprised,"  said  the  mate  of  the 
barque.  "  It  must  be  very  uncomfortable.  Your 
outer  jib  is  slatting,  and  your  staysails  want  stow- 
ing. Can  we  help  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged,"  replied  Hardy,  "  but 
before  you  call  your  men  aboard  this  lady  will  kindly 
bring  from  the  cabin  a  bottle  of  grog  and  glasses, 
that  we  may  drink  to  the  good  voyage  of  the 
Columbia  and  to  the  increasing  greatness  of  your 
magnificent  country." 

"  I  am  willing,"  answered  the  mate,  and  as  Julia 
disappeared  he  exclaimed,  "  Is  she  your  wife,  sir  ?  " 


«$»  Hail,  Columbia!         «$»         327 

"  No ;  she  is  my  sweetheart ;  she  is  the  daughter 
of  a  retired  commander  in  our  Royal  Navy,  and  if 
God  suffers  us  to  reach  home  she  will  be  my  wife." 

"  She  is  a  very  fine  young  woman,"  said  the  mate. 

"  She  has  a  splendid  spirit,"  answered  Hardy, 
"  and  she  is  a  very  fine  young  woman  as  you  say." 

Julia  knew  the  ways  of  the  under-stewardess,  and 
was  quickly  on  deck  again  with  a  tray  of  glasses, 
cold  water,  and  a  bottle  of  brandy.  She  mixed  the 
spirits,  each  man  saying  "  when,"  and  took  a  little 
drop  herself,  just  enough  to  be  sincere  with  in  her 
good  wishes.  The  Yankee  mate  did  not  seem  to 
greatly  trouble  himself  that  the  figure  on  the  barque 
—  undoubtedly  the  skipper  —  should  keep  the  tele- 
scope bearing  upon  them.  With  one  hand  on  the 
spoke  Hardy,  with  the  other  hand,  held  aloft  the 
glass  of  grog,  and  said : 

"  Here's  to  your  beautiful  barque,  and  to  the  noble 
country  from  which  she  hails !  " 

He  drank  and  so  did  Julia,  and  the  mate  before 
drinking  said : 

"  Here's  to  the  Red  Flag  of  Old  England,  and  to 
the  fine  girls  who  steer  ships  under  it !  " 

Julia  laughed  merrily,  and  thought  the  mate  better 
looking  now  than  she  had  at  first  believed.  He  was 
a  little  sallow,  a  little  long-faced,  and  on  the  whole 
what  the  Americans  call  slab-sided;  but  he  had  the 
eyes  of  an  honest  man  and  the  looks  of  a  good 
sailor,  and  if  his  name  were  inscribed  on  the  dome 
of  St.  Paul's  nothing  better  could  be  said  of  it. 

"  My  captain  will  be  getting  impatient,"  said  the 
mate.  "  He'll  wonder  that  you  don't  take  assist- 
ance." 

"  If  your  men  will  hoist  that  canvas  for  me," 
answered  Hardy,  "  I  shall  ask  no  more  help." 


328  •&•  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «*» 

"  What  a  beautiful  dog  is  that !  "  said  the  Yankee 
mate,  hanging  in  the  wind,  so  much  did  he  relish  this 
novel  rencounter  and  brief  association  in  mid-Atlan- 
tic with  a  young  lady  of  incomparable  figure.  "  I 
would  be  the  happiest  man  in  America  if  I  owned 
that  dog." 

"  All  America  would  not  purchase  him,"  answered 
Hardy ;  "  his  name  is  Sailor,  and  he  has  the  spirit  of 
Nelson.  He  helps  me  and  the  watch-tackle  to  brace 
up,  keeps  a  lookout  like  a  madman  in  search  of  the 
philosopher's  stone,  never  gets  drunk,  and  always 
says  his  prayers  before  he  turns  in.  Will  you  have 
another  drop  of  brandy  ?  " 

"  No  more,  sir,  I  thank  you." 

Saying  which  the  mate  went  to  the  side  and  hailed 
the  boat.  Hardy  kept  the  York  in  the  wind  and  the 
barque  was  already  in  the  wind,  and  neither  vessel 
therefore  had  any  way  to  speak  of.  The  boat,  well 
fended  off,  slobbered  alongside,  chucked  and  dived, 
spat  and  hissed  like  a  kitten  sporting  with  its  mother. 
To  the  cry  of  the  mate  four  men  sprang  into  the 
chains,  and  were  on  deck  with  the  activity  of  Britons 
boarding  a  Frenchman.  Fine-looking  fellows  they 
were,  three  of  them  Englishmen  who  had  been 
forced  by  Great  Britain's  love  of  foreign  labour  to 
earn  their  bread  under  the  Stripes  and  Stars.  They 
stared  about  them  with  sheepish  grins  because  a 
woman  was  hard  by.  Had  the  girl  been  a  British 
skipper  their  smileless  faces  would  have  grown  as 
long  as  wet  hammocks. 

"  Fill  a  drink  for  them,  Julia,"  said  Hardy. 

Another  glass  was  fetched,  four  glasses  brimmed, 
and  with  a  "  Well,  here's  luck,  sir,"  down  went  the 
doses  through  throats  to  which  the  aroma  of  cognac 


«9>  Hail,  Columbia!          «f>         329 

was  as  strange  a  bliss  as  heaven  to  a  newly  arrived 
soul. 

"Shall  we  make  more  sail  for  you?"  said  the 
mate. 

"  Not  a  cloth,  thank  ye,"  answered  Hardy  at  the 
wheel. 

So  the  mate  and  the  men  went  forward  and 
hoisted  the  outer  jib  and  scientifically  belayed  the 
sheet,  then  lay  aft,  and  did  likewise  with  the  stay- 
sails, hauled  taut  the  braces,  and  generally  made 
things  snugger  than  they  had  found  them.  The  dog 
went  with  them  and  watched  their  conduct  with 
admiration. 

"  Well,"  said  the  mate,  approaching  Hardy  with 
an  outstretched  hand,  "  we  have  done  all  you  wish 
us  to  do,  and  I  am  sorry  you  won't  let  us  do  more. 
We  will  report  you." 

"  I  hope  you  won't,"  answered  Hardy ;  "  the  own- 
ers will  send  out  a  tug  in  search  of  us,  and  then  it's 
good  night  to  my  salvage." 

"  I  twig,"  responded  the  mate,  with  a  grave  smile. 
"  Yes,  it  shall  be  made  apparent  to  the  Old  Man," 
meaning  his  captain,  for  at  sea  the  captain  would  be 
called  Old  Man  by  the  sailors  if  he  were  a  beardless 
youth  of  twenty-two. 

He  shook  hands  with  Hardy,  and  their  grasp  was 
cordial.  He  shook  hands  with  Julia,  and  admired 
her  and  praised  her  with  a  look.  Then  the  five 
tumbled  over  the  side  like  rats  from  a  sinking  ship, 
gained  the  boat,  and  went  away  with  a  smoking 
stem  to  the  barque.  Julia  stepped  to  the  rail  to 
watch,  and  when  the  men  saw  her  they  cheered; 
three  times  they  cheered,  and  the  mate  in  the  stern- 
sheets  lifted  his  cap  and  cheered  whilst  Julia 


330  <&  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

flourished  her  hand.  There  is  much  good-fellowship 
at  sea,  and  English-speaking  sailors  are  as  brothers 
when  they  meet. 

"  Those  men  do  not  look  as  though  they  were 
starved  and  kicked,"  said  Julia,  returning  to  Hardy. 

"  If  every  ship  kicked  and  starved  her  sailors  there 
would  be  no  ships  afloat,"  replied  Hardy.  "  All  the 
same,  there  is  much  starvation  and  kicking  at  sea." 

"  How  beautiful  that  ship  looks !  "  said  Julia;  "  I 
never  saw  a  vessel's  canvas  shine  so  brightly.  How 
delicate  are  the  shadows  at  the  edges!  A  sailing 
ship  owes  its  life  to  the  wind,  and  all  the  spirit  of  the 
sea  is  in  her.  Steamers  are  full  of  coals  and  ashes, 
they  blacken  the  air  with  disgusting  smoke,  their  life 
is  compulsion,  they  are  driven  by  a  wheel  or  a  screw. 
The  sailing  ship  floats  on  wings  like  the  sea-bird." 

"  All  is  compulsion,"  exclaimed  Hardy,  watching 
the  keen-ended  boat  as  she  foamed  sweeping  with  a 
lightning  flash  of  wet  oars  to  the  sun,  to  the  mother 
she  belonged  to ;  "  compulsion  hurled  the  universe 
into  being,  and  everything  is  driven  by  it.  I  do  not 
like  to  be  compelled  to  be  born  or  to  die.  I  do 
not  like  to  be  compelled  to  carry  a  hump  or  to  grow 
bald  or  hideous  with  age.  But  I  am  compelled  into 
these  enormities  and  there's  no  getting  away  from  it. 
You  must  hold  this  wheel  whilst  I  dip  our  flag  when 
they  get  their  boat  to  the  tackles." 

This  did  not  take  long  to  happen.  The  sweet- 
hearts watched  the  white  boat  rising  out  of  the  water, 
and  when  the  little  fabric  was  hanging  at  its  davits 
the  American  flag  soared  heavenward,  streaming  to 
the  gaff  end. 

"  Hold  the  wheel,"  said  Hardy,  and  Julia  grasped 
the  spokes. 


«jp»  Hail,  Columbia!          «$»         331 

He  sprang  to  the  signal-halliards  and  lowered  the 
flag,  just  as  you  pull  off  your  hat  when  you  say  good- 
bye. The  American  colour  sank  in  graceful  beauty 
and  soared  again,  and  again  sank  the  Red  Ensign  to 
be  again  gaff-ended,  and  thrice  did  these  two  vessels 
salute  each  other  and  then  belayed  their  halliards, 
leaving  their  banners  flying. 

A  faint  cheer  came  from  the  American  vessel,  and 
Hardy  sprang  into  the  mizzen-rigging  and  flourished 
his  cap.  Then  the  Yankee  fell  off  and  rilled  a  rap- 
full  ;  her  wake  throbbed  in  pulses  of  foam  under  her 
counter,  fountain-bursts  of  sparkling  stars  of  brine 
flashed  off  her  bows,  every  stitch  of  canvas  was 
mastheaded,  and  away  she  went  with  yearning  stun- 
sail,  a  leaning  vision  of  transcendent  beauty  —  a 
spirit  now,  for  she  hath  long  since  departed  from  the 
waters  which  she  walked,  and  remains  but  a  memory 
to  the  old. 

Hardy  went  to  the  wheel,  put  his  helm  a  little  up, 
and  the  York  started  again  for  home  under  steady 
curves  of  canvas. 

For  two  days  after  this  the  ship's  company  of 
three  had  their  hands  full.  It  came  on  to  blow 
a  strong  breeze  right  ahead  :  they  managed  to  brace 
up,  and  went  staggering  away  to  the  west  and  north. 
It  was  impossible  for  so  slender  a  company  to  put 
the  ship  about;  neither  could  Hardy  wear  her,  for 
who  was  to  square  and  then  brace  round  the  yards 
to  the  hard-over  helm  ?  Every  wind  then  must  be  a 
fair  wind  for  that  ship;  she  must  splutter  through 
it  as  best  she  could,  and  all  that  the  two  brave  hearts 
could  pray  for  was  that  it  should  never  blow  so  hard 
as  to  dismast  them  or  burst  the  canvas  into  rags. 

Julia  was  now  a  practised  as  well  as  a  fearless 


332  «^  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

helmswoman,  and  Hardy  was  able  to  get  the  sleep 
he  needed;  she  too  enjoyed  plenty  of  intervals.  In 
those  two  days  it  did  not  blow  fiercer  than  a  two- 
reef  breeze,  and  Hardy  eased  the  ship  by  keeping 
her  a  little  away.  For  it  mattered  nothing  to  him  or 
Julia  if  the  passage  home  extended  into  months  so 
long  as  they  got  home  at  last. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

THE   CAMILLA   OF   THE   SEA 

WITHIN  ten  weeks  of  the  date  of  the  sailing  of 
the  clipper  ship  York  from  the  River  Thames  the 
vessel  was  about  two  hundred  miles  to  the  west- 
ward of  the  coast  of  Portugal.  It  was  a  leaden  day. 
The  ocean  was  breathing  deeply  after  a  long  con- 
flict with  the  gale.  The  swell  ran  in  sullen  masses, 
lifting  with  the  lazy  sickness  of  oil,  but  the  breeze 
was  light  and  scarcely  creased  the  moving  knolls, 
and  the  shadow  of  cloud  hung  like  tapestry  in  a 
darkened  chamber,  low  down  in  ragged  skirts  upon 
the  winding  line  of  the  sea. 

The  ship  looked  wrecked  aloft.  All  her  spars 
were  standing  indeed,  but  her  mizzentopsail  hung 
in  rags,  and  the  bolt  ropes  made  a  skeleton  of  the 
fabric  aft.  The  foresail  was  split  in  halves,  and  with 
each  weary  roll  gaped  like  a  cut  in  an  india-rubber 
ball  when  pressed.  Rags  of  the  outer  jib  fluttered 
from  lacing  or  hanks.  The  maintopgallantsail  had 
been  blown  loose  and  had  gone  to  pieces,  and  was 
shaking  from  the  yard  in  lengths  like  Irish  pennants 
in  the  rigging.  The  ship  was  rolling  drearily,  and 
the  channels  would  often  slap  white  thunder  out 
of  the  sulky  brow  of  the  swell,  and  she  groaned 
greatly  throughout  her  length  and  made  some  dim 
sound  of  lamentation  aloft. 

333 


334  «**  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

Hardy  stood  alone  at  the  wheel.  He  was  fresh 
from  a  long  and  desperate  fight  with  the  sea,  and 
you  read  the  character  of  the  struggle  in  his  face. 
His  beard  was  a  week  old :  in  the  hollows  under  his 
eyes  lay  a  little  whiteness,  the  encrustation  of  salt; 
this  gave  him  the  ghastly  look  of  the  life-boat  man 
who  steps  ashore  after  standing  two  nights  and  a 
day  by  a  stranded  ship  with  frozen  figures  in  her 
shrouds.  His  hair  was  a  little  long,  and  this  gave 
a  something  of  wildness  to  his  aspect.  His  looks 
were  haggard,  his  eyes  wanting  in  their  usual  lustre, 
his  lips  were  pale;  he  looked  worn.  For  ten  days 
he  and  Julia  had  been  fighting  a  gale  of  wind.  In 
ten  days  they  had  managed  to  obtain  but  two  or 
three  hours  sleep  in  a  day  of  twenty-four  hours. 
But  happily  for  them  it  never  blew  so  hard  but  that 
they  could  keep  their  course  shaped  for  the  English 
Channel.  It  never  blew  so  hard  that  a  ship  well 
manned  would  have  needed  to  heave  to.  It  came  in 
roaring  weight  upon  the  quarter,  and  one  midnight 
the  mizzentopsail  burst  in  a  blast  of  cannon,  and 
shortly  after  the  maintopgallantsail  was  blown  into 
shreds  out  of  the  gaskets,  and  next  morning,  in  the 
screaming  fury  of  a  bleaching  squall,  the  outer  jib 
flew  into  pennons  from  the  stay,  and  the  veil  of  the 
fore-course  was  rent  asunder.  But  the  reefed  main- 
topsail,  the  foretopmast-staysail,  and  the  inner  jib 
were  as  faithful  to  their  duty  as  Tom  Bowline  in  the 
song,  and  the  ship  rushed  on  in  foam  to  the  figure- 
head, whitening  acres  of  the  sea  abaft  her,  passing 
a  brig  hove  to  in  the  haze;  passed  by  a  ship  that 
would  not  stay  to  speak;  passed  by  a  Fruiter 
schooner  from  the  Western  Islands,  whose  spring 
over  the  surge  was  the  glance  of  the  albatross,  whose 


«$»        The  Camilla  of  the  Sea       «t»     335 

envanishment  in  the  haze  ahead,  into  which  the  York 
was  for  ever  rushing,  was  the  extinction  of  a  meteor 
in  a  cloud. 

And  now  the  gale  was  gone  the  sea  would  shortly 
smooth  its  panting  breast ;  it  was  the  early  forenoon. 
Hardy  called  the  dog,  but  he  did  not  exert  the 
powerful  voice  that  was  familiar  to  Julia. 

The  Newfoundland  came  out  of  its  kennel  and 
looked  up  in  affectionate  expectation  at  the  sailor. 

"  Go  below  and  bring  her  up ! "  said  Hardy, 
pointing,  and  the  dog  perfectly  understanding  dis- 
appeared down  the  companionway. 

His  hands  were  almost  raw  with  grasping  the 
spokes.  His  arms  were  almost  lifeless  with  their 
long  resistance  to  the  mulish  tug  of  the  wheel-chains 
in  response  to  the  kick  of  the  rudder.  His  feet 
ached  with  standing,  knots  seemed  to  have  been 
tied  in  the  muscles  of  his  legs ;  but  in  the  gauntness 
of  his  looks  was  visible  the  spirit  of  a  noble  heart, 
and  there  was  no  better  or  more  fearless  sailor  in 
the  world  than  that  grim,  unshorn  figure  that  stood 
alone  at  the  helm  of  that  reeling  ship. 

You  will  think  it  strange  that  a  man,  a  woman, 
and  a  dog  should  have  brought  a  big,  full-rigged 
ship  in  safety  down  to  the  present  hour  through 
some  thunderous  Atlantic  parallels.  Yet  this  ship's 
adventure  is  not  so  strange  to  me  as  the  mysterious 
good  fortune  of  the  ocean-tramp  of  to-day  that 
washes  through  the  Bay  of  Biscay  without  her 
funnel,  and  quietly  discharges  her  cargo  without 
any  one  feeling  one  penny  the  worse.  Take,  for 
instance,  the  second  mate  of  an  ocean-tramp.  He 
walks  the  bridge;  there  are  three  foreign  seamen 
in  his  watch,  one  of  whom  steers  the  ship,  whilst 


336  «$»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

the  other  two  paint  her.  By  secret  compulsion, 
well  understood  by  the  owner  and  the  captain  of 
the  ship,  the  second  mate  quits  the  bridge  and  helps 
the  two  sailors  to  paint  the  ship.  Who  looks  after 
the  ship  whilst  the  person  in  charge  of  her  paints? 
The  ship  herself. 

Or  the  same  second  mate  may  be  on  the  bridge  in 
the  first  watch;  the  foreign  sailor  at  the  wheel  has 
been  labouring  almost  continuously  at  deck-work 
through  the  greater  portion  of  the  day.  The  second 
mate  for  convenience  has  set  the  ship's  course  by 
a  star.  Suddenly  he  finds  the  star  sliding  slowly 
abeam.  He  rushes  to  the  wheel  and  beholds  the 
helmsman  standing  erect,  and  asleep.  The  second 
mate  shakes  the  fellow  furiously,  and  shouts,  "  Hard 
a-starboard !  "  and  the  sleepy  foreigner,  who  scarcely 
understands  the  commands  of  the  helm  in  English, 
tries  to  port  by  every  spoke  until  he  is  stopped  by 
the  second  mate's  boot. 

Is  not  the  voyage  of  our  every-day  ocean-tramp 
more  wonderful  in  the  unrevealed  conditions  of  the 
life  of  the  staggering  tank  than  this  story  of  a  full- 
rigged  ship  worked  by  a  English  seaman,  an  English 
girl,  a  Newfoundland  dog,  a  watch-tackle,  and  a 
winch?  I  served  for  eight  years  at  sea  as  a  sailor, 
and  I  venture  to  say  that  the  tramp  is  far  more 
wonderful  than  this  ship. 

Sailor  knew  his  business,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
Julia  arrived  on  deck.  She  looked  ill  and  worn. 
Her  straw  hat  was  beginning  to  show  like  the  end 
of  a  long  voyage;  her  dress  would  have  made  an 
ill  figure  of  her  in  Piccadilly.  But  you  saw  all 
that  was  necessary  of  spirit  and  resolution  in  her 
eyes. 


«f»        The  Camilla  of  the  Sea       «$»     337 

"  Julia,"  said  Hardy,  "  the  pumps  suck  with  me. 
I  feel  worn  out.  I  can't  stand  at  this  wheel  any 
longer,  and  there  would  be  no  good  in  your  attempt- 
ing to  hold  it.  I'll  secure  the  helm,  and  the  ship 
must  take  her  chance.  It'll  be  a  dead  calm  before 
long,  and  we  have  come  to  a  moment  when  a  great 
deal  must  be  left  to  fortune.  Look  yonder !  " 

He  pointed  on  the  quarter  where  streaks  of  fine 
weather  were  expanding  and  lifting,  lines  and  spaces 
of  silver  blue  irradiating  the  ragged  gloom  of  the 
firmament  which  was  moving  ponderously  and 
slowly  northwest. 

"  You  will  find  it  cold,"  continued  Hardy.  "  Go 
and  wrap  yourself  up  in  the  captain's  cloak  whilst 
I  secure  the  wheel." 

Before  he  had  secured  the  helm  the  girl  returned 
apparelled  as  commanded,  for  to  her  his  word  was 
law.  He  then  sank  down  in  a  chair  near  the  wheel 
with  his  chin  upon  his  breast,  and  the  girl  went 
forward  to  boil  a  kettle  of  water. 

She  remained  forward  until  some  hot  coffee  was 
ready,  and  when  she  came  aft  with  it  she  found 
her  sweetheart  sound  asleep.  It  is  not  love  that 
disturbs  the  sleeping  sailor.  It  is  love  that  watches 
and  shields  the  repose  of  love,  as  the  guardian  angel 
the  slumber  of  the  baby.  Julia  looked  at  Hardy. 
How  gaunt  and  hollow !  How  grim  and  bristly  with 
the  week's  growth !  Yet  how  peaceful  in  sleep,  how 
manly  in  look,  how  dear  to  her;  oh,  how  dear  to 
her  by  loyal  devotion,  by  beautiful  honour,  by  self- 
respect,  by  his  fear  and  his  love  of  God! 

She  sat  on  the  deck  beside  him  and  drank  a  little 
coffee,  and  the  dog  lay  at  her  feet.  The  helm  was 
paralysed  by  the  rope  which  secured  the  wheel,  and 


338  «*>  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «& 

the  ship  was  slowly  knocked  by  the  head  into  the 
hollow  of  the  swell ;  the  topsail  was  aback,  and  the 
ship  lay  rolling  quietly  on  the  quieting  folds  with 
streamers  of  canvas  swaying  from  the  yard  and 
from  the  stay. 

Julia  continued  to  sit  by  her  sleeping  lover's  side 
for  more  than  half  an  hour,  leaving  him  once  only 
to  see  to  the  galley  fire.  When  again  she  arose  to 
attend  to  the  fire  the  dog  stood  up  and  shook 
himself  and  sprang  upon  the  taffrail  to  take  a  look 
around,  and  before  Julia  had  stepped  ten  paces  the 
noble  animal  was  sounding  in  deep  tones  his  report 
of  a  ship  in  sight. 

The  noise  awoke  Hardy,  who  started  and  stood 
up,  and  Julia  stayed  where  she  was  to  look  at 
the  sea. 

Nearly  right  abeam,  in  the  midst  of  the  lifting 
bright  weather  whose  suffusion  of  radiance  was 
over  the  mastheads,  was  visible  the  feathering  of 
a  steamer's  smoke. 

"  It  is  something  coming  our  way,"  said  Hardy  to 
Julia,  and  he  took  the  glass,  and  pointed  it. 

His  hands  trembled,  and  he  steadied  the  tubes  by 
grasping  the  vang  of  the  gaff  with  them.  After 
a  long  look  —  Julia  was  at  his  side  —  he  said  : 

"  She  rises  fast.  By  her  square  yards  I  take  her 
to  be  a  man-of-war.  If  she  is  British  she  will  be  the 
help  I  have  sometimes  prayed  for." 

He  put  down  the  glass,  bent  on  the  Red  Ensign 
Jack  down,  and  ran  it  aloft. 

"  I  will  get  you  some  hot  coffee,"  said  Julia.  "Do 
you  feel  rested  a  little  ?  " 

"  I  am  good  for  an  eight  hours'  spell,"  he  replied, 
but  he  did  not  look  so, 


«$»        The  Camilla  of  the  Sea       «£»     339 

She  went  forward,  and  he  watched  the  approach- 
ing steamer,  and  the  dog  watched  her  also.  When 
the  girl  returned  with  a  pannikin  of  hot  coffee 
Hardy  had  more  news  to  give  her.  He  first  drank, 
then  lighted  a  pipe,  and  he  told  her  that  the  ship 
abeam,  whose  paddle-wheels  had  by  this  time  slapped 
her  hull  into  clear  view,  was  undoubtedly  a  British 
man-of-war,  and  to  judge  by  her  course  she  was 
either  from  the  Cape  de  Verde  or  direct  from  Rio,  or 
some  port  on  the  eastern  coast  of  South  America. 

"  How  do  you  know  she  is  British?  "  asked  Julia. 

"  By  every  token  of  yards  squared  by  lifts  and 
braces,  by  white  bunt,  and  something  white  at  the 
gaff  end." 

"  Can  you  distinguish  her  flag?  " 

"  It  is  a  speck  of  light,  but  I  know  what  it  means." 

"  Will  you  accept  help  from  her?  "  inquired  Julia. 

"  Of  course  I  will,"  he  answered.  "  The  Ad- 
miralty do  not  claim  salvage,  or  they  so  hedge  about 
the  claim  as  to  make  the  claimant's  case  prohibitory." 

"  How  will  she  help  us?  "  said  the  girl. 

"  Either  by  towing  or  sending  men.  But  I  doubt 
if  she  will  tow,"  answered  Hardy.  "  She  may  not 
have  enough  coal.  She  may  be  in  a  hurry  to  get 
home.  The  sailor  is  always  in  a  hurry  —  God  help 
him  —  and  often  when  he  gets  home  he  finds  the 
canary  dead  in  the  cage." 

"  We  have  no  canary  to  greet  us  with  its  corpse," 
said  Julia. 

She  picked  up  the  glass,  and  inspected  the  ap- 
proaching vessel.  And  so  the  time  was  whiled  away 
until  the  steamer  was  close  on  the  York's  quarter, 
her  paddle-wheels  ceased  to  revolve,  and  now  all 
about  her  could  easily  be  understood  without  the 
glass. 


340  *$*  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$• 

She  was  one  of  that  class  of  naval  steamers  which 
still  survive  (in  aspect  at  least),  at  the  date  of  the 
composition  of  this  story,  in  the  Royal  Yacht,  fa- 
miliar in  the  Solent.  She  had  a  square  stern,  embel- 
lished with  gilded  mouldings  and  sparkling  with 
windows.  She  had  yellow  paddle-boxes,  a  tall  black 
hull  with  a  few  square  gunports  of  a  side.  She  was 
a  barque,  though  they  tried  to  make  her  look  like  a 
ship  by  fixing  square  yards  without  canvas  on  her 
mizzenmast  and  fidded  topmast,  which  was  a  brig- 
antine's  mainmast  with  its  crosstrees.  For  a  full- 
rigged  ship  must  have  fidded  topmast  and  fidded 
topgallantmast  and  royalmast,  and  if  she  has  not 
these  you  may  call  her  what  you  like  but  she  is  not 
a  ship. 

The  steamer  was  H.M.S.  Magicienne,  bound  from 
Rio  to  Devonport,  having  halted  at  the  Cape  de 
Verde  for  coal.  She  was  full  of  men,  as  the  Navy 
ship  usually  is.  Here  and  there  she  was  spotted  by 
the  red  coat  of  a  marine.  She  sparkled  to  the  risen 
fine  weather,  and  the  sea  was  now  blue  to  both  the 
ships,  though  northwest  it  breathed  in  leaden 
shadow.  She  dipped  her  visible  wheel  in  foam. 
The  colour  of  her  country  trembled  in  handkerchief- 
size  at  her  gaff  end,  and  her  pennon  streamed  in  a 
line  of  silk.  An  officer  stood  upon  the  paddle-box 
and  hailed  the  York.  Hardy  thought  he  could 
answer,  and  tried  to  do  so,  but  found  that  his  voice 
would  not  carry.  Indeed  he  had  been  overburdened, 
and  every  function  was  bowed  and  humped. 

To  make  himself  understood  he  shook  his  head 
and  pointed  to  his  mouth,  and  flew  the  signal  of  "No 
voice  "  by  pantomime.  The  trill  of  a  whistle  could 
be  heard.  In  a  few  moments  —  moments  are  min- 


«$»         The  Camilla  of  the  Sea       «$»     341 

utes,  minutes  are  hours  on  board  the  ship  of  war 
with  hundreds  of  a  crew,  as  compared  with  the 
moments,  minutes,  and  hours  aboard  a  ship  of  trade 
with  thirty  of  a  crew  —  a  boat-full  of  men  with 
something  glittering  in  the  stern-sheets  sank  to  the 
water  at  the  steamer's  side,  and,  as  though  but  one 
oar  was  wielded  at  either  gunwale,  the  boat  came 
with  flashful  iteration  of  feathered  blade,  a  pulse  of 
sparkling  locomotion  each  side  of  her,  and  the  some- 
thing that  glittered  astern  beside  the  coxswain  en- 
larged swiftly  into  the  proportions  of  a  midshipman 
twenty  years  old. 

He  gained  the  deck  with  the  scrambling  bounds 
of  a  kangaroo  as  he  sprang  from  the  rail  saluting 
the  ship  with  some  convulsion  of  thumb  near  the 
bottom  button  of  his  waistcoat.  His  freckled  face 
was  well  bred;  his  looks  had  the  ardency  of  the 
youthful  British  sailor.  You  felt  that  here  was  a 
young  man,  perhaps  an  honourable,  perhaps  a  lord, 
who  at  the  call  of  duty  would  do  his  "  bit,"  and  do 
it  well. 

He  stared  hard  at  the  girl  whilst  he  walked  slap 
up  to  Hardy. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  this  ship?  "  said  he,  and 
his  accost  made  Hardy  feel  as  though  he  were  a 
north-country  Geordie  skipper  with  an  auld  wife  in 
the  companion-hatch  darning  his  stockings. 

"  I  am  stumpended  with  work,"  said  Hardy,  "and 
must  sit,  or  I  shall  fall."  And  he  sat  down. 

"  You  look  like  the  end  of  a  long  voyage,"  said  the 
midshipman. 

"  And  you  look  as  if  the  roast  beef  of  Old  Eng- 
land smokes  in  the  gunroom,"  answered  Hardy. 

"  So  help  me  God,  then,"  cried  the  midshipman 


342  •$>  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

with  heat,  "  nothing  has  fed  us  since  Rio  but  salt 
horse.  Where's  your  crew  ?  "  and  he  looked  at  the 
girl  without  greatly  admiring  her,  for  Julia  was  very 
draggled  and  broken  about  the  hat,  and  dejected 
about  the  hair  and  white  and  worn,  and  she  knew 
she  was  all  this  with  a  girl's  distress. 

"  The  crew  are  before  you,"  replied  Hardy,  lan- 
guidly pointing  at  the  dog. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  said  the  midshipman, 
directing  his  eyes  aloft. 

"  The  help  of  the  nation  represented  by  your  ship 
of  state,"  answered  Hardy. 

The  midshipman,  who  was  a  gentleman,  perceived 
that  the  grim,  unshorn,  labour-wearied  man  on  the 
chair  was  a  gentleman,  whatever  might  be  his  rating 
aboard  a  merchantman,  and  his  manner  changed. 

"  You  are  in  a  very  odd  situation,"  said  he. 
"  What  a  magnificent  dog !  What  is  your  story,  that 
I  may  return  and  report  it  to  the  captain  ?  " 

It  took  Hardy  ten  minutes  to  relate  the  ship's 
adventure,  and  the  midshipman  listened  to  it  with 
parted  lips,  just  as  his  face  would  overhang  a  thrill- 
ing novel  which  is  true  with  all  those  touches  that 
make  the  world  akin. 

"  Well,"  said  he  when  Hardy  had  finished,  "  I 
always  thought  going  into  the  Navy  was  going  to 
sea,  but  that's  the  real  flag  of  adventure,"  he  added, 
with  a  glance  at  the  inverted  ensign.  '  You  want 
help  and  deserve  it,  and  I'll  go  to  the  ship,  and 
report." 

He  touched  his  cap  with  a  look  of  pitying  admira- 
tion a*  Julia.  It  was  not  the  admiration  of  a  man 
for  a  pretty  face,  but  for  the  heart  of  a  lioness. 

The  boat  left  the  York  and  Hardy  continued  to 


«f»         The  Camilla  of  the  Sea       «$»     343 

sit,  and  Julia  stood  beside  him.  It  was  fine  weather 
above  the  fore-royal  truck,  and  the  gloom  was  thin- 
ning in  the  northwest.  Where  the  brightness  had 
broken  the  sea  was  darkening  its  blue;  a  breeze 
was  coming  up  that  way,  and  it  would  prove  a  home- 
ward bound  breeze  to  the  York,  with  a  sparkling  sun 
to  dry  her  and  to  cheer  her. 

"  I  do  not  think  that  midshipman  greatly  respects 
the  Merchant  Service,"  said  Julia. 

"  Midshipmen  occasionally  condescend  to  us," 
answered  Hardy,  "  but  the  majority  of  naval  officers 
have  good  sense,  and  wherever  there  is  good  sense 
our  flag  is  respected,  because  the  naval  officer  has 
read  history  and  sometimes  contributes  to  it." 

The  girl  looked  at  the  steamer  and  the  boat  that 
was  foaming  to  her  to  its  dazzling  line  of  oars. 

"It  is  a  fine  service!"  said  Hardy,  taking  the 
steamer  in  from  streaming  pennon  to  the  dip  of  the 
red-tongued  wheel.  "  I  might  just  as  easily  have 
been  there  as  here.  One  is  the  butterfly  rich  with 
the  wing  of  the  peacock  tail;  the  other  is  the  plain 
white  butterfly  "  —  he  looked  afloat  —  "  that  blows 
like  a  piece  of  paper  about  the  summer  garden.  But 
deprive  them  of  their  wings  and  you'll  find  their 
bodies  very  much  alike." 

"  What  are  they  going  to  do?  "  said  Julia. 

"  We  shall  soon  find  out,"  answered  Hardy. 
"  British  men-of-war  are  not  accustomed  to  keep 
people  long  waiting  to  find  out." 

Though  the  ships  lay  at  a  fair  seaworthy  distance 
from  each  other,  men  and  matters  were  visible  to  the 
naked  eye  aboard  either. 

Hardy  saw  the  midshipman  conversing  with  the 
commander  on  the  bridge.  He  did  not  choose  to 


344  *&  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «$» 

level  a  glass,  it  might  be  deemed  impertinent,  but  he 
saw  the  commander  lift  a  binocular  to  his  eyes  in 
evident  wonder;  certainly  the  gallant  officer  had 
never  heard  a  stranger  story  of  the  sea.  Officialism 
could  not  neutralise  curiosity,  and  the  man,  the  girl, 
and  the  dog  being  within  easy  reach  of  the  sight 
helped  by  the  magnifying  lens,  the  commander 
watched  whilst  the  midshipman  talked. 

What  was  to  happen  was  to  be  speedily  under- 
stood. The  pipe  shrilled  and  trilled,  kits  and  ham- 
mocks were  flung  into  the  cutter,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  large  boat  containing  twenty-one  men 
and  a  warrant  officer  came  alongside.  Twelve  men 
climbed  out  of  her  into  the  ship,  first  throwing  up 
to  a  few  who  had  preceded  them  their  sea  wardrobes 
and  bedding.  They  were  followed  by  the  warrant 
officer  —  the  man-o'-war's  boatswain.  His  ruddy 
face  flamed  betwixt  two  red  whiskers;  his  small, 
sharp  blue  eyes  shot  a  bayonet  glance  in  twenty 
directions  in  two  seconds.  He  and  his  men  had 
come  to  stay,  and  the  cutter  laboured  to  her  sea 
mother  to  the  stroke  of  five  oars  controlled  by  a 
helmsman. 

"  I'm  the  bo'sun  of  her  Majesty's  ship  Magici- 
enne,"  said  the  flaming  seaman,  coming  up  to  Hardy 
with  a  salute.  "  My  orders  are  to  help  you  to  carry 
this  ship  home." 

"  It  is  very  good  of  your  captain,"  said  Hardy, 
deeply  moved,  and  smiling  with  an  expression  that 
accentuated  the  weariness  of  his  soul,  and  that  also 
emphasised  the  manly  nature  of  his  character,  which 
instantly  won  the  recognition  of  the  boatswain  be- 
cause he  was  a  sailor  in  the  presence  of  a  sailor. 

"  Do  I  understand  your  discipline  ?     I  give  my 


«9»         The  Camilla  of  the  Sea       <Q*     345 

orders  through  you.  Your  men  would  not  accept 
my  command." 

"  Quite  right,  sir,"  answered  the  boatswain,  cheer- 
fully, "  and  if  you  will  turn  me  to  at  once  I  will 
turn  them  men  to  immediately  after.  But  I  beg 
you  won't  overtire  yourself,  sir.  And  the  lady  has 
helped  you!  And  that's  a  beautiful  dog  of  yourn. 
A  small  ship's  company,  sir ;  and,  begging  your  par- 
don, you  and  the  lady  both  look  as  if  a  good  night's 
rest  would  do  you  good." 

"What  is  your  name?"  said  Hardy. 

"  Harper,  sir." 

"  Mr.  Harper,  will  you  kindly  see  that  the  men 
make  themselves  comfortable  in  the  forecastle? 
You  will  then  bend  fresh  sails  and  make  all  sail. 
I  will  show  you  where  everything  you  want  is  to 
be  found." 

He  sat  as  he  spoke,  and  the  boatswain,  touching 
his  cap,  went  amongst  his  men  and  executed  Hardy's 
orders. 

The  two  lovers  watched  the  steamer.  A  man-o'- 
war,  even  when  she  carries  paddle-boxes,  is  always 
a  gracious  object.  Yonder  ship's  rails  were  embel- 
lished with  a  snow-white  line  of  hammocks,  and 
snow-white  lines  of  furled  canvas  brightened  the 
yards  with  a  gleaming  streak  of  sunshine.  The  full 
philosophy  of  spit  and  polish  was  to  be  found  in 
that  steamer.  It  spoke  in  the  flash  of  brass;  it 
lurked  in  the  gleam  of  glass ;  it  was  visible  in  many 
colours  in  paint  work.  Every  rope  was  hauled  taut ; 
the  yards  were  unerringly  square.  The  boat  rose 
without  a  song,  the  wheels  revolved,  the  foam  of  a 
harpooned  whale  fell  in  dazzling  masses  from  under 
the  sponsons,  and  the  splendour  of  the  yeast  under 


346  «f»  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

the  square  counter  flamed  like  the  rising  day-star 
in  the  windows  of  the  stern. 

Hardy  staggered  to  the  signal  halliards;  his  mo- 
tions were  seen  —  he  could  not  salute  with  the  dis- 
tress signal.  With  somewhat  shaking  hands,  there- 
fore, he  unbent  and  rebent  the  Red  Ensign  and 
hoisted  it  and  dipped,  and  the  courtesy  found  its 
response  in  the  graceful  sinking  and  heavenward 
soaring  of  the  White  Flag  of  our  country. 

Before  the  sailors  came  out  of  the  forecastle,  the 
queen's  ship  was  on  a  line  with  the  York's  port 
cathead,  merrily  slapping  her  way  to  England. 

Mr.  Harper  came  aft.  His  salute  was  respectful, 
his  manner  sympathetic. 

"  If  you  will  tell  me  where  the  spare  sails  are 
kept,  sir,  I  will  see  to  everything,  that  you  and  the 
lady  may  go  below  and  take  the  rest  you  stand  in 
need  of." 

Hardy  told  him  all  that  was  necessary,  thanking 
him  also,  whilst  Julia  looked  at  the  fifteen  men  that 
were  gathered  forward  and  admired  their  well-fed 
appearance,  trim  attire,  manly  shapes,  and  the 
whiskers  of  those  who  wore  them.  The  discipline 
of  a  ship  of  state  was  in  their  postures,  different 
from  the  longshore,  lounging  attitude  of  Jack  Muck 
when  waiting,  and  yet  some  of  the  best  of  those  men 
had  been  Jack  Mucks  in  their  day;  one  had  even 
been  mate  of  a  ship,  and  the  look  he  sent  aloft  was 
charged  with  recognition  of  familiar  conditions. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Harper,"  said  Hardy,  "  I  will  leave 
the  ship  to  you.  There  are  plenty  of  provisions  and 
there  is  plenty  of  fresh  water,  and  there  is  rum  for 
you  to  serve  out  as  you  think  proper." 

Saying  this,  he  took  Julia  by  the  arm,  conducted 


«f»         The  Camilla  of  the  Sea       «$»     347 

her  to  the  companion,  and  followed  her  into  the 
cabin. 

And  now  occurred  another  extraordinary  incident 
in  this  ship's  adventure.  It  had  indeed  once  oc- 
curred visibly  before,  but  it  will  not  be  credited  in 
this  age  of  the  religious  novel.  When  Hardy  was 
in  the  cabin  he  put  his  cap  upon  the  table,  and  going 
to  a  cushioned  locker  knelt  beside  it.  Julia  imme- 
diately approached  him  and  likewise  knelt,  shoulders 
touching.  When  they  had  thanked  God  —  and  it 
was  meet  that  they  should  thank  him  for  their  very 
merciful  deliverance  —  they  ate  some  food,  drank 
some  wine,  and  went  to  their  cabins. 

The  sleep  of  the  wearied  mariner  is  profound,  and 
the  sleep  of  the  toil-worn  girl  at  sea  is  likewise  pro- 
found. Hardy  was  the  first  to  awake.  Through  the 
little  port-hole  or  scuttle  in  the  ship's  side  he  wit- 
nessed the  scarlet  of  the  dying  afternoon;  he  also 
observed  the  creaming  curl  of  the  breaking  sea 
streaming  swiftly  past.  In  the  plank  with  his  feet 
he  felt  the  buoyancy  of  sea-borne  motion,  the  floating 
lift,  the  floating  reel  of  a  fabric  winging  over  the 
deep.  He  shaved  himself,  and  emerged  a  clean,  a 
manly  though  a  pallid  sailor,  still  something  gaunt 
but  with  eyes  brightened  by  sleep,  and  with  an 
expression  gallant  with  hope  and  with  victory. 

He  looked  round  for  Julia.  She  was  still  in  her 
cabin,  and  he  would  not  awaken  her.  At  the  foot  of 
the  companion-steps  lay  the  Newfoundland;  Hardy 
knelt  beside  the  noble  creature  and  put  his  cheek  to 
the  wet  muzzle,  and  the  dog  groaned  in  pleasure  and 
gratitude.  Then  they  went  on  deck  together. 

It  was  a  strange,  new,  surprising  sight  to  Hardy 
and  perhaps  to  the  dog:  a  British  man-of-war's 


348  *&  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

man  stood  at  the  wheel  of  the  ship;  up  and  down 
the  quarter-deck  stumped  the  stout  figure  of  Mr. 
Harper  in  all  pomp  of  commanding  strut.  It  was 
the  first  dog-watch,  and  some  of  the  sailors  were 
walking  about  the  forecastle  smoking  pipes,  and 
some  of  them,  also  smoking  pipes,  lurked  about  the 
galley  door.  A  fresh  breeze  was  sweeping  down 
upon  the  quarter.  The  ship  was  under  full  sail 
from  main-royal  to  flying  jib,  from  mizzen-royal 
to  spanker.  The  weather-clew  of  the  mainsail  was 
up,  and  —  what  was  that  yonder,  right  ahead  ?  By 
heaven!  the  Magicienne  slapping  along  at  ten  and 
pouring  incense  of  soot  to  the  very  extremity  of  the 
visible  universe,  and  the  York  was  doing  twelve  and 
overhauling  her  with  foam  to  the  figurehead,  with 
derisive  laughter  aloft,  with  all  graceful  scorn  of 
the  wind-swept  structure  in  every  leap,  that  brought 
closer  yet  to  the  eye  the  laborious  ploughing  of  the 
paddles. 

Hardy  and  Mr.  Harper  touched  their  caps  to  each 
other. 

"  This  is  business,  sir,"  said  the  boatswain,  "  and 
this  ship  is  going  to  point  a  moral  to  that  there 
steamer !  " 

Hardy  sent  a  critical  gaze  aloft.  Everything  was 
set  to  a  hair  and  rounded  firm  as  a  boiler  full  of 
steam.  Everything  was  doing  the  work  of  a  boiler 
and  more  than  the  work  of  a  boiler,  as  witness 
yonder  sky^blackening  fabric,  like  panting  Time, 
toiling  to  elude  the  Camilla  of  the  sea. 

"  Your  captain  has  sent  me  some  good  men,"  said 
Hardy.  "  It  did  not  take  you  long,  I  reckon,  to  bend 
new  canvas." 

The  boatswain  smiled  loftily  betwixt  his  red 
whiskers. 


«$»        The  Camilla  of  the  Sea       «$»     349 

"It  isn't  all  New  Navy  yet,  sir,"  he  answered; 
"  but  it's  coming." 

He  sighed  like  a  risen  porpoise. 

"  There'll  be  no  call  for  sailors  when  it's  to  be 
nothing  but  that,  with  pole-masts  and  so  built "  — 
he  was  pointing  as  he  spoke  to  the  steamer  —  "  that 
a  dock-master  might  fitly  sing  out  to  the  skipper, 
Which  end  of  you  is  coming  in?" 

He  suddenly  drew  himself  up  as  though  on  drill, 
and  Julia  stepped  out  of  the  companion-hatch. 
Sleep  had  touched  her  cheeks  with  a  delicate  bloom. 
She  had  refreshed  herself  with  soap  and  water ;  her 
abundant  hair  was  gracefully  dressed;  with  the 
cunning  fingers  of  a  woman  she  had  somehow,  I 
do  not  know  how,  effaced  in  effect  at  least  from 
her  attire  the  soiling  and  creasing  influence  of  hard 
weather  upon  the  single  robe.  She  had  managed 
to  warp  her  hat  to  its  old  bearings,  and  it  sat  cocked 
in  its  old  coquettish  pride  upon  her  head.  Her  gaze 
was  full  of  rapture  as  she  looked  at  the  ship,  the 
straining  sweep  of  white  water  over  the  side,  the 
easy,  manly  figure  of  the  man  at  the  wheel,  the 
Magicienne,  which  if  this  breeze  lasted  the  ship 
must  presently  shift  her  helm  to  pass. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  this?  "  said  Hardy  to  her. 

"Is  it  a  dream,  Mr.  Harper?"  said  the  girl. 
"  Shall  Mr.  Hardy  and  I  awaken  to  find  ourselves 
on  board  an  abandoned  wreck?" 

"  Call  it  a  dream,  mum,"  answered  the  boatswain, 
"  and  when  you  awake  it  will  be  England !  " 

This  story  of  the  ship's  adventure  is  told.  Be- 
cause what  you  wish  and  expect  is  bound  to  happen 
when  safety  and  home  are  to  be  reached  and  realised 


35°  *$*  The  Mate  of  the  Good  Ship  York  «f» 

by  a  noble,  well-found  clipper  ship  in  charge  of  two 
sailors  of  the  manliest  character,  and  manned  by  fif- 
teen splendid  examples  of  the  man-of-war's  men  of 
the  Navy  of  that  age. 

The  merciful  eye  of  Crod  was  upon  this  ship,  for 
certainly  the  strength  of  our  courageous  couple  had 
been  expended  in  a  long  strife  with  the  gale,  and  the 
dog,  and  the  watch-tackle,  and  the  winch  without 
human  help  would  have  been  of  no  use.  Hardy 
would  have  been  forced  to  take  the  first  assistance 
that  offered.  It  came  to  him  in  the  triumphant  spirit 
which  informs  the  whole  of  this  couple's  adventures. 
Our  sailor  yearned  for  an  estate  for  himself  and  for 
the  girl  that  was  to  be  his  wife.  He  richly  deserved 
the  reward  he  desired.  Had  any  ship  but  a  man-of- 
war  assisted  him  to  get  home  the  salvage  claimed 
would  have  diminished  his  proportion  to  a  sum 
which  at  the  present  rate  of  interest  would  not  have 
yielded  him  the  value  of  the  pension  of  the  retired 
naval  bluejacket.  The  British  man-of-war  demands 
no  salvage,  and  this  is  but  just,  because  her  very 
existence  depends  upon  the  safety  of  the  British 
merchantman.  If  you  extinguish  the  Merchant  Ser- 
vice, you  extinguish  the  need  for  a  Navy  and  you 
extinguish  the  nation  herself,  because  we  are  sur- 
rounded by  the  ocean,  we  are  fed  by  the  merchant 
sailor,  and  the  bluejacket  is  paid  to  protect  him 
whilst  he  brings  us  the  daily  bread  for  which  we  pray 
every  Sunday  in  church,  and  sometimes  more  often 
than  every  Sunday. 

I  have  never  heard  of  a  single  instance  in  which 
the  Admiralty  have  claimed  salvage  for  services  ren- 
dered to  a  British  merchantman.  Possibly  they  may 
have  sent  in  a  claim  for  the  value  of  stores  expended 


«$»       The  Camilla  of  the  Sea      «•>     351 

in  the  salvage  services.  In  the  case  of  a  successful 
salvage  it  has  sometimes  happened  that  the  owners 
of  the  ship  have  by  permission  of  the  Admiralty 
presented  a  service  of  plate  for  the  officers'  mess,  or 
they  have  made  personal  gifts  to  the  officers  and  a 
dinner  or  supper  ashore  to  the  crew.  Thus  it  will  be 
gathered  that  Hardy  reaped  the  harvest  he  had 
sown  and  held  in  view;  and  having  said  this  no 
more  need  be  asked,  for  the  hand  that  has  penned 
these  lines  has  no  cunning  as  a  reporter  of  the 
Marriage  Service. 


THE   END. 


announcement  Hist 

of  3to  fiction 


Haunters  of  the  Silences.    BY  CHARLES  G. 

D.  ROBERTS,  author  of  "  Red  Fox,"  "  The  Watchers  of 
the  Trails,"  etc. 

Cloth,  one  volume,  with  many  drawings  by  Charles  Liv- 
ingston Bull,  four  of  which  are  in  full  color      .     $2.00 

The  stories  in  Mr.  Roberts's  new  collection  are  the  strong 
est  and  best  he  has  ever  written. 

He  has  largely  taken  for  his  subjects  those  animals  rarely 
met  with  in  books,  whose  lives  are  spent  "  In  the  Silences," 
where  they  are  the  supreme  rulers.  Mr.  Roberts  has  writ- 
ten of  them  sympathetically,  as  always,  but  with  fine  regard 
for  the  scientific  truth. 

"  As  a  writer  about  animals,  Mr.  Roberts  occupies  an  enviable 
place.  He  is  the  most  literary,  as  well  as  the  most  imaginative 
and  vivid  of  all  the  nature  writers."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  His  animal  stories  are  marvels  of  sympathetic  science  anr 
literary  exactness."  —  New  York  World. 

\ 


Z.   C.  PAGE  AND  COMPANY'S 


The   Lady  of   the    Blue   Motor.      By 

G.  SIDNEY  PATERNOSTER,  author  of  "  The  Cruise  of 
the  Motor-Boat  Conqueror,"  "  The  Motor  Pirate,"  etc. 

Cloth  decorative,  with  a  colored  frontispiece  by  John  C. 
Frohn $1-50 

The  Lady  of  the  Blue  Motor  is  an  audacious  heroine 
who  drove  her  mysterious  car  at  breakneck  speed.  Her 
plea  for  assistance  in  an  adventure  promising  more  than  a 
spice  of  danger  could  not  of  course  be  disregarded  by  any 
gallant  fellow  motorist.  Mr.  Paternoster's  hero  rose 
promptly  to  the  occasion.  Across  France  they  tore  and 
across  the  English  Channel.  There,  the  escapade  past,  he 
lost  her. 

Mr.  Paternoster,  however,  is  generous,  and  allows  the 
reader  to  follow  their  separate  adventures  until  the  Lady  of 
the  Blue  Motor  is  found  again  and  properly  vindicated  of 
all  save  womanly  courage  and  affection.  A  unique  ro- 
mance, one  continuous  exciting  series  of  adventure. 


Clementina's  Highwayman.    By  ROBERT 

NEILSON  STEPHENS,  author  of  "  The  Flight  of  Geor- 
giana,"  "  An  Enemy  to  the  King,"  etc. 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated         .        .        .        .     $1.50 

Mr.  Stephens  has  put  into  his  new  book,  '« Clementina's 
Highwayiran,"  the  finest  qualities  of  plot,  construction,  and 
literary  finish. 

The  story  is  laid  in  the  mid-Georgian  period.  It  is  a 
dashing,  sparkling,  vivacious  comedy,  with  a  heroine  as 
lovely  and  changeable  as  an  April  day,  and  a  hero  all  ardor 
and  daring. 

The  exquisite  quality  of  Mr.  Stephens's  literary  style 
clothes  the  story  in  a  rich  but  delicate  word-fabric ;  and 
never  before  have  his  setting  and  atmosphere  been  so 
perfect. 


LIST  OF  NEW  FICTION 


The  Sorceress  Of  Rome.      By  NATHAN   GAL- 
LIZIER,  author  of  "  Castel  del  Monte,"  etc. 
Cloth  decorative,  illustrated          .         .         .         .     $1.50 

The  love-story  of  Otto  III.,  the  boy  emperor,  and  Ste- 
phania,  wife  of  the  Senator  Crescentius  of  Rome,  has 
already  been  made  the  basis  of  various  German  poems  and 
plays. 

Mr.  Gallizier  has  used  it  for  the  main  theme  of  "The 
Sorceress  of  Rome,"  the  second  book  of  his  trilogy  of 
romances  on  the  mediaeval  life  of  Italy.  In  detail  and 
finish  the  book  is  a  brilliant  piece  of  work,  describing 
clearly  an  exciting  and  strenuous  period.  It  possesses  the 
same  qualities  as  "  Castel  del  Monte,"  of  which  the  Chicago 
Record  Herald  said  :  "  There  is  color,  there  is  sumptuous 
word-painting  in  these  pages ;  the  action  is  terrific  at  times ; 
vividness  and  life  are  in  every  part ;  brilliant  descriptions 
entertain  the  reader ;  mystic  scenes  and  prophecies  give  a 
singular  fascination  to  the  tale,  which  is  strong  and  force- 
ful in  its  portrayal." 


Hester  Of  the   Hills.      By  GILDER  CLAY. 
Cloth  decorative,  illustrated         ....     11.50 

"  Hester  of  the  Hills  "  has  a  motif  unusual  in  life,  and 
new  in  fiction.  Its  hero,  who  has  only  acquired  his  own 
strength  and  resourcefulness  by  a  lifelong  struggle  against 
constitutional  frailty,  has  come  to  make  the  question  of 
bodily  soundness  his  dominant  thought.  He  resolves  to 
ensure  strong  constitutions  to  his  children  by  marrying  a 
physically  perfect  woman.  After  long  search,  he  finds  this 
ideal  in  Hester,  the  daughter  of  a  "  cracker  squatter,"  of 
the  Ozark  Mountains  of  Missouri.  But,  —  he  forgot  to 
take  into  consideration  that  very  vital  emotion,  love,  which 
played  havoc  with  his  well-laid  plans. 

It 'is  an  ingenious  combination  of  practical  realism  and 
imaginative  fiction  worked  out  to  a  thoroughly  delightful 
and  satisfying  climax. 


L.   C.   PAGE   AND    COMPANY'S 


Prisoners  Of  Fortune.  A  TALK  OF  THE  MASSA- 
CHUSETTS BAY  COLONY.  BY  RUEL  PERLEY  SMITH, 
author  of  "  The  Rival  Campers,"  etc. 

Cloth  decorative,  with  a  colored  frontispiece  by  Frank  T. 
Merrill $1-50 

The  period  of  Mr.  Smith's  story  is  the  beginning  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  when  the  shores  of  the  American  col- 
onies were  harassed  and  the  seas  patrolled  by  pirates  and 
buccaneers.  These  robbed  and  spoiled,  and  often  seized 
and  put  to  death,  the  sailors  and  fishers  and  other  humbler 
folk,  while  their  leaders  claimed  friendship  alike  with  South- 
ern planters  and  New  England  merchants,  —  with  whom 
it  is  said  they  frequently  divided  their  spoils. 

The  times  were  stern  and  the  colonists  were  hardy,  but 
they  loved  as  truly  and  tenderly  as  in  more  peaceful  days. 
Thus,  while  the  hero's  adventures  with  pirates  and  his  search 
for  their  hidden  treasure  is  a  record  of  desperate  encounters 
and  daring  deeds,  his  love-story  and  his  winning  of  sweet 
Mary  Vane  is  in  delightful  contrast. 


The  Rome  Express.    BY  MAJOR  ARTHUR  GRIP- 
FITHS,  author  of  "  The  Passenger  from  Calais,"  etc. 

Cloth  decorative,  with  a  colored  frontispiece  by  A.  O. 
Scott  .• $1.25 

A  mysterious  murder  on  a  flying  express  train,  a  wily 
Italian,  a  charming  woman  caught  in  the  meshes  of  circum- 
stantial evidence,  a  chivalrous  Englishman,  and  a  police 
force  with  a  keen  nose  for  the  wrong  clue,  are  the  ingredi- 
ents from  which  Major  Griffiths  has  concocted  a  clever,  up- 
to-date  detective  story.  The  book  is  bright  and  spirited, 
with  rapid  action,  and  consistent  development  which  brings 
the  story  to  a  logical  and  dramatic  ending. 


'*•    * 


A     000110636     8 


